The WATERGATE BLUES
by
Mordecai Goldberg

THE CHARACTERS

DICK...a young man of 20.
TRISH...his bride, naturally fair hair.
RICHARD...a congressman of 40.
PAT...his wife, blonde.
R.N...60-year old occupant of a very high elected office.
PATRICIA...his wife, peroxided.
THE FIRST LADY...his wife, white hair with blue tint.
THE OLD MAN...octogenarian and former occupant of a very high elected office.

THE SET
The stage is divided in half. LEFT is the livingroom of Richard’s and Pat’s Georgetown house. It is decorated to Pat’s taste; French Provincial with suggestions of both elegance and pretentiousness. The colors are light with a predominance of yellows and gold. RIGHT is Richard’s study with lots of books and dark woodtones. There is a sharp contrast in moods between the two rooms. In rear wall of livingroom a set of French doors. Unseen diningroom adjoins livingroom.

THE TIME
ACT ONE: Midmorning of a bright spring day.
ACT TWO: That afternoon.

ACT ONE

RICHARD at desk working on papers or reading. PAT dialing livingroom telephone.

PAT: Hello? I’d like to know if Flight 868 from Los Angeles will be arriving at Dulles on schedule? Thank you. Thank you very much. [Hangs up.] Did you hear that Richard?

RICHARD: They’re coming in on time?

PAT: 11:30.

RICHARD: [Checks watch.] 2 hours.

PAT: [Comes to doorway of study.] It seems so silly not to pick them up at the airport.

RICHARD: That’s the way they want it.

PAT: But you know how crowded and confusing it can be at Dulles. At their age I’m not so sure they can cope.

RICHARD: The Old Man was very specific about it Pat.

PAT: You know how they are; he was only trying to be considerate.

RICHARD: The Old Man is right. If we showed up at the airport it would attract someone’s attention. You know how the press is. They have the airport staked out 24 hours a day. God only knows how he’s going to get here without being spotted.

PAT: You’d think after 20 years they would leave him alone.

RICHARD: Are you kidding? Do they leave us alone?

PAT: That’s different, isn’t it? We’re still part of what’s happening. We’re fair game.

RICHARD: Everybody’s fair game now with this mess R.N. is in. Every cub reporter in D.C. can smell a Pulitzer Prize in the air.

PAT: You think they’ve gotten wind of The Old Man’s memoirs?

RICHARD: Hell, yes. They know he’s been working on them for an awfully long time now. They know he’s 80 years old. You put 2 and 2 together and you know his autobiography has got to come out pretty soon.

PAT: Still—there hasn’t been much in the papers about The Old Man lately.

RICHARD: That’s the miracle. So far there hasn’t been a single story about whatever the hell it is he’s writing. I’ll give him a lot of credit for that. It’s taken him a lifetime to do it; but somehow he’s found a way to work in a leakproof environment. I’ll have to remember to ask the old fart what his secret is. I know for damned sure R.N. would like to know what it is!

PAT: You think they’ll really come over today—R.N. and Patricia?

RICHARD: Last I heard they were. Although how they will get here without the entire press corps at their heels is a mystery to me.

PAT: That would be awful!

RICHARD: Oh, they’ll manage to arrive undetected somehow. They wouldn’t want to miss the anniversary. Besides, R.N. is very eager to brainstorm this impeachment thing.

PAT: Are you still involved with that!

RICHARD: How the hell can I avoid it? From a purely political point of view, we’ve got to know what’s going on inside his head. This affair could turn into a death blow to the Party.

PAT: Yes, it could—to our party. Darn it, Richard, I don’t want anything to spoil our plans. This is their day and it has to be perfect!

RICHARD: It will all be very discreet.

PAT: Can we count on that? On them being discreet?

RICHARD: What’s that supposed to mean?

PAT: Stories that are circulating—

RICHARD: What stories?

PAT: Stories about drinking. Lots and lots of drinking going on at their place.

RICHARD: That’s just gossip.

PAT: I don’t think so.

RICHARD: Even if he were hitting the bottle a little, can you blame him?

PAT: Not just him; them.

RICHARD: I’m sure they’re under control. Hell, I know they’re under control. I saw them just 2 days ago and everything was under control.

PAT: Really?

RICHARD: There’s a lot of strain there, naturally—but they are holding up. I mean, when you consider the pressure the guy is facing—the fantastic pressure—well, it’s a miracle they haven’t cracked yet.

PAT: As long as they don’t do it today of all days. There should not be any political talk today.

RICHARD: Let’s be realistic, Pat. The Old Man knows what’s going on. He knows R.N. will be here. There is simply no way the subject can be avoided. It won’t spoil anything though. I promise you that. In fact I think it might be good for us to sit down and discuss everything with The Old Man. I think that’s what R.N. wants. I think that’s what The Old Man wants.

PAT: Well, it’s definitely not what I want.

RICHARD: Alright, alright—you’ve made your point.

PAT: Just one day. One normal day every 20 years? That isn’t too much for me to ask for is it?

RICHARD: [Sigh.] I don’t know. Maybe it is—[His telephone rings.] Hello? Oh, good morning sir!—Yes, they’re due in at 11:30—Yes, the flight’s on time. We just called the airline—No, in his telegram he told us specifically not to pick him up at the airport—didn’t want to draw a crowd—I’m sure he understands the dynamics of the situation, sir. As I was telling Pat just now, the sonofagun’s political instincts are still in working order. Apparently he got out of California without being spotted—No, nothing on the news, sir—Yes, he sent me a copy too. Stayed up most of the night, reading the damned thing—Yes, yes, I agree totally. I’m sure he’ll agree too—I think he just wants to get our impressions of what he’s written, sir—I don’t think there’s any question about that. You are coming over, aren’t you? In about an hour? Certainly. [Laughs.]—I’m sure you’ll be safe over here. There’s been no sign of any activity outside our place all morning. Is there anything special we can lay on for you, sir?—Alright, we’ll see you both then. Goodbye, sir. [Hangs up phone.]

PAT: So, they’re definitely coming.

RICHARD: Yeah, they’re driving over in the back of a laundry van!

PAT: A laundry van? Oh, my God!

RICHARD: I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

PAT: It’s not funny.

RICHARD: No. It isn’t funny.

PAT: And it’s not just them. It’s all of us. We’re all starting to behave like criminals.

RICHARD: That’s the price you pay.

PAT: The price for what?

RICHARD: Do I have to answer that?

PAT: I suppose not.

RICHARD: Have we ever gotten anything without fighting for it?

PAT: No.

RICHARD: Is there anything worth getting without a fight?

PAT: It doesn’t seem there is—I just didn’t think this was our fight.

RICHARD: We have got to help the man, Pat. He needs us. He needs us desperately. They’re closing in on him from all sides now and he has got to feel that somebody is on his side.

PAT: Are we?

RICHARD: Are we what?

PAT: On his side?

RICHARD: No question about it.

PAT: You think he’s right then?

RICHARD: It doesn’t matter what I think. And it doesn’t matter whether or not he’s right. It’s a question of loyalty. That’s what loyalty is all about—what I would expect from my people, he expects from me—from us. In politics there is never any right or wrong, anyway. It’s a question of who’s got the numbers. And right now the numbers are all running against him. We’ve got to help turn that around. And we can start right here.

PAT: Well, you know you can count on me.

RICHARD: Yes. I know I can. I always do. No matter how tough things get, I know you’re with me; I can feel you standing there beside me. I’m sure it’s the same with them too. That’s like a rock, that solidarity. A rock that nobody or no thing can break down. They never broke The Old Man, did they? He always had his First Lady with him—and God knows the holy hell they went through together.

PAT: Yes; I don’t know if I could take what she took.

RICHARD: If you had to—you would.

PAT: But I’m not going to have to, am I?

RICHARD: Let’s hope not.

PAT: I mean this thing R.N. and Patricia are going through—

RICHARD: That isn’t going to happen to us. We’re not like them. We’re not going to make the same mistakes.

PAT: Then R.N. has made mistakes.

RICHARD: Hell yes, he’s made mistakes—plenty of mistakes. But that doesn’t mean he deserves what they’re doing to him now.

PAT: No?

RICHARD: No! They have got him between a rock and a hard place and they wonder why he behaves like a cornered rat! Christ, if only they would leave him just a little room to maneuver.

PAT: But we can escape; we can get out of politics right now if we wanted to, can’t we?

RICHARD: I’d be lying to you if I said we could. I mean, they might sure as hell throw us out of politics some day; but you can’t just quit it—

PAT: You need it that much?

RICHARD: Yes. I need it that much. It’s in my blood. It always has been.

PAT: I wish you had told me that 20 years ago!

RICHARD: A politician never reveals more than is absolutely necessary, does he?

PAT: At the time I didn’t realize you were—

Sound of antique auto horn.

RICHARD: Who could that be?

PAT: [Comes to footlights, looks through ‘window.’] It’s Dick!

RICHARD goes to ‘front door’ as DICK climbs stairs from orchestra pit carrying TRISH. PAT joins them as DICK sings Wedding March with TRISH.

PAT: What a wonderful surprise this is! What are you two doing here?

DICK: Can’t you tell? [Sprinkles PAT and RICHARD with rice.]

PAT: You’re not—you can’t be—

DICK: Yes, yes; we are! We’re married! Spliced! Hitched! Til death us do part. [Hugs TRISH.] Isn’t that right, Trish? [They touch lips.]

PAT: Oh, Dick, come on—you’re kidding us. This is just one of your jokes, isn’t it?

TRISH: No, it’s true! [Shows wedding ring.]

RICHARD: [Suddenly aware of their public exposure.] We better get out of this doorway. [Looks left and right before closing ‘door.’]

Both couples cross to livingroom.

RICHARD: Now, what’s this all about?

DICK: It’s about two young people falling in love and getting married.

RICHARD: You mean you’re going to get married.

DICK: No. I mean married. Past tense. [produces marriage certificate.] About six hours past tense. [Hands certificate to RICHARD, who reads it.] Hey! Why so glum?

PAT: I’m not glum, Dick. I’m in a state of shock! This is all so sudden, so totally unexpected—

RICHARD: It looks kosher to me. They are legally married alright. [Returns document to DICK.]

PAT: We always thought you would let us know beforehand—so we could arrange a proper wedding.

DICK: That’s exactly why we didn’t let you know! We didn’t want all that fuss and hullabaloo—[To TRISH.]—did we, monkey?

RICHARD: The point is, it isn’t just what you two want; there are other considerations; the feelings of others are involved.

DICK: [To TRISH.] Listen to that, will you? [To RICHARD and PAT.] Under what circumstances did you two guys get married?

PAT: That was different—

DICK: Oh?

RICHARD: There was a war going on.

DICK: There’s a war going on now.

PAT: Richard was going into the Navy.

TRISH: Dick is going into the Navy.

RICHARD and PAT exchange looks, smile and then laugh. Everyone laughs.

RICHARD: The young squirts have got us dead to rights, I’m afraid.

DICK: It’s a fait accompli.

PAT: Well, if that’s the case, we might as well make the most of it!

She kisses TRISH on cheek, then gives DICK hug. RICHARD kisses TRISH on cheek.

PAT: Congratulations—

RICHARD: [Shaking DICK’s hand.] Congratulations—and the best of luck!

PAT: Yes! The best of everything to you my darlings—[Starts to cry.]

DICK: Now that’s just what we were trying to avoid!

RICHARD: You can’t avoid a woman’s tears at a wedding, Dick—or even the thought of a wedding.

DICK: [To TRISH.] Is that right? Is that the way it’s going to be with you 20 years from now?

TRISH: I don’t know. Maybe that depends on you.

DICK: What have I got to do with it? [To RICHARD.] Is that why she’s crying?

RICHARD: Over spilled milk you mean?

DICK: [To TRISH.] The man said, "For better or for worse." Remember that!

PAT: That’s enough teasing. I’m all right now. Just a little cloudburst, that’s all. And now the sun is out and it’s going to shine brightly all day long!

RICHARD: [Having wandered to footlights, looks through ‘window.’] What is that "thing" you drove up here in, Dick?

DICK: That is a genuine 4 wheel 6 cylinder Antediluvian Special!

TRISH: It was made before the Flood alright!

DICK: It’s basically a Ford—

RICHARD: Basically?

DICK: Well, there is a little Chrysler and some DeSoto thrown in—and one of the fenders is from a Packard.

RICHARD: [To PAT.] It reminds me of that rattletrap we used to drive. You remember that first jalopy of ours?

PAT: It was such a long time ago—

RICHARD: You think it’ll make it into the garage, Dick? I’m afraid it might attract some attention parked out there on the street.

DICK: Well if you’re ashamed to have a genuine relic like that on your front lawn, I guess we’ll have to hide it. This is a very exclusive neighborhood, after all. And we certainly wouldn’t want to depress the real estate market for this part of Georgetown, would we?

DICK and RICHARD EXIT into orchestra pit. We will hear clatter of car’s engine when it is started.

PAT: It’s really quite unbelievable; that this should happen today of all days.

TRISH: Is today a special day?

PAT: Didn’t you know? Richard and I are celebrating our wedding anniversary.

TRISH: You were married on the same day?

PAT: 20 years ago today.

TRISH: That is quite a coincidence.

PAT: It’s more than that. Ours isn’t the only anniversary we are celebrating today. This is a day full of anniversaries. You’ll see! You are staying, aren’t you?

TRISH: I certainly hope so! We’ve been driving most of the night, and it’s a long way to Cape Cod.

PAT: Cape Cod? Is that where you and Dick are going for your honeymoon?

TRISH: Yes.

PAT: That’s where we went; Richard and I—

DICK and RICHARD RE-ENTER from pit.

RICHARD: By God, that jalopy of Dick’s is almost the spitting image of the car we had, Pat. Remember how I nearly broke my arm cranking it up that one time?

PAT: You never were mechanically inclined, darling.

RICHARD: [To DICK.] Those old starting cranks can be murderous.

TRISH: That’s why he always makes me use it!

PAT: [To RICHARD.] Can you guess where Dick and Trish are going for their honeymoon?

RICHARD: Where?

PAT: Cape Cod.

RICHARD: Cape Cod! No kidding? Ah, that’s a great place for a honeymoon.

DICK: We’ve rented the same bungalow you two had.

RICHARD: You mean to tell me that old shack is still standing?

PAT: It wasn’t exactly "standing" when we stayed in it. The walls were all leaning at the craziest angles! [Demonstrates with hands.] I was scared to death the whole time the place would collapse on us like a house of cards!

RICHARD: All the houses take a beating up there in that weather. But I guess it was made to last, that bungalow—it sort of bends with the wind, I suppose. You’re going to love it up there. My God, those were wonderful days for us. The whole world was going to hell but we were in paradise: at least for a few weeks. Yes, those were great times for us—[Pause.] So, you’re going into the Navy?

DICK: Yes, sir. I have to report to San Diego on the 28th.

RICHARD: Does that mean sea duty?

DICK: Tin cans.

RICHARD: Destroyers, huh? Well, that’s the real Navy all right. Rough duty—the roughest really. But very gratifying.

DICK: Is that what you served on—Destroyers?

RICHARD: Yes. For a while—before I got a staff assignment. Maybe that was a mistake.

DICK: What was?

RICHARD: Leaving that bucket of rust. They were a great bunch of guys. They went down off the Solomons later in the war.

TRISH: Then you were lucky to get off when you did!

RICHARD: Oh—maybe I was, after all. It’s just that—I always had the crazy feeling—that if I had stayed aboard her she wouldn’t have gone down. A silly idea really—that one man could make a difference like that—but still, it is a question that haunts me: what would have happened if I had stayed on that ship?

PAT: [To TRISH.] So you’ll follow Dick to San Diego?

TRISH: Naturally.

PAT: And wait for the war to end.

TRISH: And wait for the war to end.

PAT: Just as I did.

TRISH: What else can a woman do?

PAT: Yes. What else can a woman do but watch the sun go down on the ocean every night?

TRISH: It can’t last forever; the war.

PAT: No. The war will end and he will come back safe and sound.

DICK: Do you guarantee that?

PAT: Yes! I guarantee it!

RICHARD: You’ve got a much better chance of surviving in the Navy, Dick—that was a smart choice. And the Navy will provide you with a good background—excellent leadership training in the Navy. It’s really incredible how many of this nation’s leaders come out of the Navy.

PAT: And what about your future? After the war. Have you decided on anything?

DICK: We’re not looking that far ahead yet, really.

TRISH: We don’t want to think beyond the next two weeks. We want them to be like a whole lifetime.

RICHARD: Yes. That’s the way to be when you’re young. Let the future take care of itself.

DICK: That doesn’t sound very typical of you, sir. I’ve always thought of you as someone who believed in taking the future by the scruff of its neck and making it do what you wanted it to do.

RICHARD: Yes, well, that’s probably true—that has been my philosophy.

DICK: Been your philosophy?

RICHARD: Still is, still is—it’s just that—

DICK: This impeachment thing? Is it that bad? For you, personally?

RICHARD: Personally, it’s got nothing to do with me. It’s just a difficult time—for all of us. There is a little poison in the air just now.

PAT: We’re not going to talk about that, are we, on a day like this?

RICHARD: No. Of course not. You’re right. We shouldn’t. We shouldn’t let the poison seep in here. This day should be special—sacred—a real holiday.

PAT: Promise me just one thing, Trish. If Dick ever asks your permission to go into politics, turn him down. No matter what the cost, turn him down.

DICK: That’s not very likely to happen.

RICHARD: Does that mean you’re not going on to Law School?

DICK: We haven’t decided that yet.

PAT: Law School is the first step on the road to a political career, Trish. Remember that!

RICHARD: Let me just say, in all fairness to politics, that we, Pat and I, have done all right by it. Not that it’s been all wine and roses, but nothing that really matters ever is. Take this house for example—

TRISH: It is a truly handsome place—

RICHARD: That wasn’t necessarily my meaning, but you’re right. It is a beautiful house. What I meant was that this house, because of its history, embodies the finer aspects of politics. There have been a lot of great people who have lived in this house. A lot of history has been made here. This place goes back to the Monroe administration. Congressmen, Supreme Court Justices, Cabinet Officers. There are a lot of ghosts in this house—a lot of tradition living here. And it’s a great feeling you get being a part of something like that—being part of that legacy.

TRISH: Yes, there are ghosts here—and yet it feels very—comfortable!

RICHARD: It’s certainly not the biggest or grandest house in Washington—but we feel very lucky to have gotten it. It’s been a good house for those who have lived in it.

TRISH: Yes. Somehow I feel quite at home here—

PAT: Would you like to see the rest of it?

TRISH: Yes! Yes, I would. Very much so—[She and PAT rise.]

PAT: And how about you, Dick? Would you like the 25-cent tour?

RICHARD: How’s about I show Dick the masculine part of our digs?

PAT: Alright. I think it might be good to separate the sexes for a little while.

TRISH: I’m not so sure about that! We’ve only been married for 6 hours!

PAT: Maybe we should start with the bedrooms?

TRISH: Now that’s a marvelous idea!

RICHARD: That’s why I want to have my little talk with Dick first!

PAT: Come on—[Takes TRISH by the arm.] We’ll start in here. This is where we’re going to have our party—

PAT and TRISH EXIT left. RICHARD and DICK cross to study.

RICHARD: Well, what do you think of it?

DICK: It’s fantastic! Beautiful! The woodtones, the books, the whole atmosphere of the place—it’s perfect!

RICHARD: Go ahead; sit behind the desk. [DICK sits and swivels in chair.] You like the feel of the place?

DICK: Yes! Yes! I like it!

RICHARD: I used to dream about having a room like this—well, never really like this! I mean, would you believe Henry Clay sat right where you’re sitting? This room hasn’t changed a helluva lot since his time. Lincoln paid a visit here a couple of times. And Teddy Roosevelt and Wilson and—I think there were 8 or 9 presidents in all who have visited here—[Gets book.] They kept a journal of all the distinguished visitors—[Turns pages, reads.]—"On March the 22nd, 1832, President Jackson came for supper with Senator Calhoun and Senator Daniel Webster—"

DICK: That must have been some supper!

RICHARD: "December 20th, 1856, Chief Justice Roger Taney paid a visit to the Attorney General—"

DICK: That was around the time of the Dred Scott decision, wasn’t it?

RICHARD: Yes, I think it was—

DICK: They probably discussed it right here in this room.

RICHARD: Lots of historic discussions in this room. [Handing journal to DICK.] Go ahead. Feel free to browse through it—

DICK: [Turning pages.] You’re still making entries.

RICHARD: Oh, yes—it’s part of the tradition of this place. History didn’t stop with the 19th century. Someday, a long time from now, someone will look at those entries we make and remark about the history we played a part in making.

DICK: [Closes journal.] Yes. [Rises.]

RICHARD: No, no—you go ahead and sit there.

DICK: It’s your chair, sir—somehow it feels just a little bit large for me.

RICHARD: [Comes behind desk to sit in chair.] Someday—

DICK: [Looking at books on wall.] Sir?

RICHARD: Someday you will be sitting in a chair like this; in a room like this.

DICK: I doubt it. Trish isn’t very keen on politics.

RICHARD: None of them are. Women, I mean. Pat is—well, I guess you can tell—she’s not exactly what you’d call 100%—but—we each have our own worlds; our own imperatives—men and women, that is.

DICK: Are you saying I should "Damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead?"

RICHARD: Yes. Trish will respect you for it, too. Even though she might never admit it. People always respect a man who does what he knows he has to do. It might not be the popular thing to do; in fact, it’s never the popular thing to do. But in the end they respect you for it.

DICK: That’s respect. What about love? Do they love you for it?

RICHARD: Those two things are actually very similar, Dick, aren’t they? Isn’t "respect" just our word for what a woman calls "love?"

DICK: God knows!

RICHARD: I’m not an expert, that’s for sure; but if there is anything I know about the relationship between men and women, Dick, it’s that without mutual respect, there is very little of anything else. Nothing of value anyway. No. When the honeymoon is over you have got to have that rock hard foundation of respect if you’re going to build anything solid and lasting.

DICK: It wouldn’t be easy to persuade Trish.

RICHARD: Hell, no. Of course it wouldn’t be. It wasn’t easy for me. But if you take the easy way out—if you compromise yourself when you’re just starting out, you will end up with nothing left to give away. That’s why this first decision is so critical. I can’t tell you exactly what to do; but I can’t urge you strongly enough to do what you really want to do.

DICK: Maybe that’s what I really don’t know—what it is I really want.

RICHARD: I think you do. I saw it in your face when you were sitting in this chair. I see it now as you look at those books. You are projecting yourself into this house—you’re looking ahead 20 years and saying to yourself: "This is what I want!."

DICK: Maybe I do want the room. And the house—but I’m not sure about everything else that goes along with it. [Pause.]

RICHARD: Did The Old Man send you a copy of his Memoirs?

DICK: Yes.

RICHARD: I see—

DICK: I haven’t read all of it yet.

RICHARD: No. Neither have I.

DICK: But I’ve read enough—

RICHARD: Yes? Read enough for what?

DICK: To know you have to be a very special person to go through what he went through.

RICHARD: You think that’s the message?

DICK: There are a lot of messages in what he wrote, but that is certainly one of them. At least for me it is. I had to ask myself whether I could have handled it. And I had to ask myself whether it would be right to ask Trish to go through it all with me.

RICHARD: But she went through it with him; with The Old Man. The two of them went through it together, didn’t they? And, in the end it was a good thing—"It was a fine thing," he says. "A terrible adventure," he says, "but an adventure they shared—"

DICK: And the sharing of it made them special to each other.

RICHARD: Yes. That is what he says.

DICK: But that was him—that was them. I don’t think Trish and I are made out of the same stuff.

RICHARD: The hell you’re not! You’re doing fine—you’re right on the track. Just because you doubt yourself doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of doing what we’ve all done. That quality of self doubt is itself a good, strong quality. Besides, what happened to The Old Man doesn’t necessarily have to happen to all of us. That’s what I think the message is. The Old Man made some mistakes; tragic mistakes. But they were his mistakes. We can avoid them.

DICK: Maybe the first mistake he made was going into politics.

RICHARD: He doesn’t say that, does he?

DICK: Not in so many words, maybe—

RICHARD: No. I don’t think there is any of that in his book. That’s what’s so remarkable about the thing, Dick. There aren’t any regrets in it! Here is the story of a man going through the holiest kind of hell imaginable—sinking to the absolute lowest depths of disgrace and dishonor. Nobody had ever fallen that far before; and yet he’s telling us that if he had to do it over again, he would do it! Not because what he did was right; but because it was he, himself doing it. And, by God, that’s the only justification he needs. He is stripping himself naked and saying: this is what I am. Hell, that’s a fantastic thing for a man to do, Dick. I don’t mind telling you I did a lot of crying as I read the thing.

DICK: Maybe that’s because you’re a lot closer to him than I am. Anyway, I didn’t cry.

RICHARD: Yes. Maybe I am a lot closer to him. Sure I am! But that is only years. That is only time. In every other respect we’re all very close to each other. When I was your age—when The Old Man was your age—we felt the same way about the same things. I can only say I hope when I’m 80 I can write that kind of book about myself; that I can have those kinds of attitudes about myself.

DICK: Surely it isn’t necessary to go through what he went through just to achieve that kind of perspective about one’s self?

RICHARD: Well, now, there I agree with you. I’m sure it isn’t necessary. Each of us has to do it in his own way.

DICK: That’s what bothers me about his book—he seems to be saying we don’t have any choice; that there is a certain "inevitability" about it all.

RICHARD: I think he’s saying just the opposite, Dick. I think he is saying his life was just that; his life. He was the one who shaped the events. They didn’t shape him.

DICK: [Pause.] Is this the house he was talking about? Did he live here too?

RICHARD: —Yes.

DICK: And R.N. too?

RICHARD: Yes. They were both congressmen, like me. This house sort of goes with the territory.

DICK: It seems like more than just that. It seems a little frightening.

RICHARD: Hell, If you’re superstitious, you can find some other house.

DICK: No. That’s just it. I’m sure it would have to be this one. I’m sure if I looked all over Washington, I couldn’t find a house that felt like this one. That’s what disturbs me about it. When I came inside for the first time, just now, I felt I had been here before. When Pat asked me if I wanted to see the other rooms, I almost answered that I knew what the other rooms were like.

RICHARD: Things like that happen. You dream about a place and then, someday, you find you’re actually there.

DICK: Do you put that much faith in dreams?

RICHARD: It happens. It happened to me. I believe in anything that happens. Don’t you?

DICK: —Yes. I guess I do. But maybe we shouldn’t.

RICHARD: Why do you say that?

DICK: It seemed to be a theme I detected running through The Old Man’s book—that the great weakness, the central flaw in his character and his life was that he never realized the importance of moral principles. He only saw what there was on the surface; never what lay underneath.

RICHARD: That’s easy for him so say now that he’s been out of the kitchen for 20 years. The only morality there is, is the morality of staying alive. And that’s not just politics, Dick, that’s life.

DICK: I can’t believe that. I can’t believe there is no morality anywhere, in anything.

RICHARD: The kind of morality you’re talking about exists only in books.

DICK: If that’s true, it’s a pretty lousy thing.

RICHARD: Yes, it’s pretty lousy. But that’s the way it is.

DICK: Well, I don’t want it to be that way.

RICHARD: Neither did I. Neither did The Old Man. But we don’t make the rules.

DICK: I thought you did! I thought that’s what politics was all about. Making better rules. Otherwise, what’s the point of it all?

RICHARD: Of course that’s true; in the long run. In the big picture, that’s true. I’m talking about what it takes to get that done—the process itself—what happens on the line of scrimmage to make those end around plays work so beautifully. That’s what politics is all about. It’s hand-to-hand combat. But, all along, you know, in spite of the cut and thrust of it all, in the end you are helping to achieve something basically good—even noble. Something that is better than when you started out. That’s what The Old Man says, doesn’t he? That on balance he left the field of combat with a few more marks of glory than of infamy. That he left us all a little better off than when he found us.

DICK: Yes. That’s what he says.

RICHARD: You don’t believe him?

DICK: I don’t know. I mean, I believe he believes it. I’m just not sure whether it really happened that way. Whether we are better off because of him or in spite of him. That is what I’d like to talk to him about.

RICHARD: Is that why you really came here—to see The Old Man?

DICK: Partly. Maybe mostly. I don’t know. [Pause.] Why did you ask?

RICHARD: R.N. is coming over too. I’m sure he wants to talk to The Old Man—

DICK: You don’t want me around for that, do you?

RICHARD: I don’t know. It’s not what I want. It’s how R.N. feels about it.

DICK: How does he feel?

RICHARD: About a thing like that? I really can’t say.

DICK: I meant about things in general.

RICHARD: He’s holding up.

DICK: Is he?

RICHARD: Don’t believe everything you read in the Post, Dick.

DICK: It’s not just the papers, sir. We’ve seen him on television and he looks pretty bad. Grotesque, really.

RICHARD: He’s under one hell of a strain, physically

DICK: It’s not just physical. There seems to be a spiritual sickness about him. It pokes right up through all that TV makeup—

RICHARD: There is no "spiritual" sickness—the man is being crucified on the instalment plan; and it hurts. It hurts like hell. It’s no wonder that sometimes the pain shows through—[PAT and TRISH RE-ENTER livingroom.]—The miracle is he has come as far as he has without totally caving in. It’s his spirit that keeps him going. No one else could have taken what he’s taken so far; in the physical sense, that is. In the physical sense he was mortally wounded a long time ago. It’s his spiritual reserve that keeps him functioning now—

PAT and TRISH cross to study ‘doorway.'

TRISH: Hey—what dark, cabalistic plots are you guys hatching in here?

RICHARD: Come on in, Trish. I was just showing off the study to Dick.

TRISH: [Enters study, looks about, touches some of the woodwork.] Mmmm. It’s nice. This entire house is a dream. But not for the likes of us poor folk!

RICHARD: Don’t worry. Someday you will have a house just as nice as this. Nicer maybe. You married the right guy, Trish.

TRISH: [Sits on arm of Dick’s chair, musses his hair.] Oh, I don’t have any doubts about that. Dick is special alright—very special. He’ll make a wonderful dentist—won’t you darling?

PAT: How about some coffee? We will probably be having a late lunch so a bite now would be wise.

PAT goes to diningroom. Others cross to livingroom and sit. PAT returns with coffee service and cookies.

RICHARD: I’ve been thinking about this tin can they’ve assigned you to, Dick. If you’d rather have staff duty I could pull some strings with BuPers and get you billeted with CincPac.

DICK: No! No, I’m kind of looking forward to sea duty.

RICHARD: I was thinking of Trish too, actually. It can be pretty tough for her being all alone in a strange town.

DICK: She can take it, sir. Can’t you?

TRISH: I’m certainly going to find out, aren’t I!

DICK: After all, the two of you managed it, didn’t you?

PAT: Apparently we did!

DICK: Besides, it just wouldn’t be right.

RICHARD: What wouldn’t?

DICK: Using political influence to get a soft billet.

RICHARD: Now hold on just a minute—I wasn’t talking about just getting you a soft billet. Oh no—I was talking about getting you a staff job that could help you develop the skills needed for a successful career. That’s just helping somebody along and it’s done all the time.

DICK: That doesn’t make it right.

RICHARD: The war isn’t right, is it?

DICK: I thought it was!

RICHARD: I mean war itself is unfair. And if that’s the case, whatever a fellow does to escape the harsher consequences of something that’s not his fault; well, there can’t be anything wrong with that, certainly. Just for argument’s sake, let’s suppose you were put in jail for a crime you didn’t commit. Wouldn’t you have the moral right to get out of there any way you could?

DICK: The system itself takes care of such cases. That’s why the doctrine of Habeas Corpus was developed—

RICHARD: Before Habeas Corpus then!

DICK: Before Habeas Corpus I would fight for the principle of Habeas Corpus.

PAT: I think he’s got you there Richard!

RICHARD: Of course he’s got me—and that just proves my point. He should definitely go to Law School!

PAT: [To TRISH.] You see what it’s like living with a politician? You can never win an argument. Even when they lose, they prove they’ve really won.

RICHARD: Trish wants Dick to become a dentist!

PAT: I think it’s a fine idea. We’ve got too many politicians and not enough good dentists in this world.

RICHARD: You can’t take someone like Dick and dress him up in a white dental smock—

PAT: Why not?

RICHARD: Because he’s not a dentist. He never will be a dentist. No dental college in the world could make a dentist out of him. I mean, could you see me as a dentist?

PAT: But Dick is not you.

RICHARD: He may not be me but he’s no dentist either.

TRISH: I was just kidding about the dentist thing!

DICK: You were? I don’t know—I kind of like the idea. It sounds so—placid.

PAT: The fact of the matter is simply that you are an exceptionally talented young man and there is a whole world of career opportunities for you to choose from—

RICHARD: Yes, and in the end you will go to law school; and after law school you’ll go into politics.

PAT: Why on earth is it so important that Dick follow in your footsteps?

RICHARD: I didn’t say he had to follow in my footsteps—

PAT: But that’s what you meant Richard. You’re all the same—you, R.N., The Old Man—always wanting someone else to justify the choices you made when you were young by making the same choice. Surely you will admit to Dick there are other professions, other careers that are rewarding, stimulating and challenging?

RICHARD: No. I can’t admit that. It isn’t true. It just isn’t true.

PAT: [Pause.] There must be some way to change this depressing subject!

TRISH: Tell us about Cape Cod. Tell us what it was like when you were there.

PAT: Well—I don’t know if the world was a simpler place in those days, or whether it was just being young, or if it really is just Cape Cod itself—but it was a time of sheer magic. An enchanted time when all of my fondest dreams seemed to be coming true—

RICHARD: We wanted those two weeks to go on forever. It’s almost painful to remember how sweet those days were.

PAT: Oh, the innocence of it all. The innocence and purity. Seeing the sun rise over the sea and watching the sunset colors dancing on the water: one had a powerful sense of being in touch with eternity—

RICHARD: And the serenity of it all—that’s the word that comes to me: serenity.

TRISH: That sounds almost—sad; that something so wonderful had to end.

PAT: How else can happiness end; and it must end, mustn’t it? We can’t expect unending happiness, can we? But we can’t let the sadness stop us from enjoying what we can when we can.

RICHARD: You won’t be worrying about the future while you’re there. It’ll be just the two of you. Nothing else will matter. There won’t be anything else. And that two weeks will seem like an entire lifetime. You’ll see.

TRISH: Have you ever been back there?

PAT: No. We haven’t.

RICHARD: There were many times we wanted to—we tried to get back; but somehow we just never made it.

TRISH: Well, we are going back every summer; every anniversary—isn’t that right, Dick?

DICK: First we have to win the war.

TRISH: That’s what I meant—after the war.

PAT: That’s what we kept saying, didn’t we, Richard? After the war? After law school? After the election?

TRISH: We’re going to be different! We’re going to take a solemn oath right here and now: that when the war is over, no matter what, we are going back to Cape Cod every single summer for the rest of our lives to celebrate our wedding anniversary. And, if that breaks some kind of tradition or law or whatever, well, so be it! Is that alright? Does that sound like a proper solemn oath?

RICHARD: That sounds very legal and proper, young lady!

TRISH: Well—do you so solemnly swear, Dick?

DICK: I do so solemnly swear.

TRISH: Do we seal it with a kiss? Is a kiss alright?

RICHARD: I think, in the case of a solemn oath, that a kiss is deemed very proper indeed!

TRISH and DICK kiss—a long, increasingly passionate kiss that becomes the cause of some embarrassment to RICHARD and PAT.

TRISH: There! We’ve settled that, haven’t we!

Telephone rings.

RICHARD: No! Don’t answer it. [Phone rings.] We don’t want to be bothered today. [Phone rings.] Today we are not home. [Phone rings.] As far as the rest of the world is concerned we have all gone to Cape Cod. [Phone rings.]

PAT: It might be The Old Man, Richard—[Phone rings.]

RICHARD: Can’t be. They’re not due in for another 45 minutes.

Phone rings. A pause. Phone rings.

PAT: Whoever it is, they seem to know we’re here.

Phone rings. RICHARD rises and answers it.

RICHARD: Hello?—Oh, hello Stan—What? The Old Man coming to Washington? That is news to me Stan—No, I don’t know if they have left Elba or not—If they have I really wouldn’t know where they’d be going—I understand you’ve got a job to do, Stan. I just hope you won’t help stir up anything until all the facts are in, that’s all—Yes, I know you are a responsible journalist; one of the very few. That Is why I assure you if I knew anything I’d be the first to pass it along to you—What do you want me to do, Stan; swear on a Bible? All right—Pat is getting me the family Bible right now—[Indicates she is not to do that.]—No, I’m not kidding you, Stan. I am putting my hand on the Bible. It is on the Bible Stan, and I am swearing to you right now as a Christian, as a United States Congressman, as a member of the Bar—on the grave of my father, Stan! Is that good enough for you? On all those things I swear to you The Old Man is not coming here—I know you’ve been mistreated in the past, Stan, but never by me, right? Never by yours truly. So I would appreciate it if you do whatever you can to nip this phony story in the bud. God knows I’ve got enough on my plate right now without these groundless speculations—What’s that?—Oh, well, on that matter I might have something for you later. The man is coming over here today via the back door—I’m telling you this in all candor so you can help keep the pack away from his heels. It is certainly to your advantage as much as to his to keep the lid on it—Alright. I’ll get back to you later tonight or in the morning at the latest and let you know what I can on the impeachment—O.K. Stan. Yes. I understand. So long. [Puts phone down.] Goddammit. I knew I shouldn’t have picked that phone up!

PAT: You think he believed you?

RICHARD: Yeah. He bought it. I’ve never screwed him before—not so he found out about it anyway. But he might not be the only one. Seems he got word from a "very reliable source" on the coast that The Old Man had left Elba and boarded a plane at LAX. Apparently they don’t know about the memoirs. He didn’t mention them. So that’s something. He thinks The Old Man’s trip must be related to R.N.—getting him ready for a resignation scenario possibly—[Comes to footlights for look out of ‘window.'] It seems nice and peaceful out there—but I can just see The Old Man pulling up and 45 reporters jumping out of the trees and popping up from the sewers. I swear if that happens I’ve got a good mind to go out there on that lawn with the magnum and order them the hell off our land like some outraged rancher in one of those old John Wayne movies—

TRISH: Yes! That would be such fun! Why don’t you do it!

RICHARD: Because that is what they’d love for me to do. What a great frontpage spread that would make. Congressman goes berserk—threatens press corps with gun! You can’t beat the bastards, Trish—you just cannot beat them.

DICK: They’ve got a job to do, sir, haven’t they?

RICHARD: A job to do? They’re scum! They’re vultures! They feed on carrion. That’s their job, Dick, to keep on sticking their noses into the worst kind of human garbage—

DICK: Is that why you lied to him?

RICHARD: I couldn’t very well tell him the truth, could I? That whole street out there would look like Time’s Square on New Year’s Eve. The helicopters would blot out the sky. Instant pandemonium would erupt. You have no idea what a hellish fury they can whip up. I just don’t think The Old Man is strong enough could take that—and, oh, how they would love to get him down on the ground for a dying interview! They’ve been after him for 50 years—50 goddammed years! And I’m not going to help them corner him now. They’ve gotten more than their pound of flesh from him—and God knows how much of his blood they have sucked out—that’s why I lied to him.

DICK: The end justifies the means—

RICHARD: Quoting The Old Man again, eh? Well, if The Old Man really believes the end doesn’t justify the means anymore, then let him tell them he’s on his way here. But he doesn’t seem to have told them, does he!

DICK: No. I guess he hasn’t.

RICHARD: Maybe you can be the first one not to ever tell a lie, Dick. And, believe me, you will be the first!

ENTER R.N. and PATRICIA from diningroom. He wears baseball cap, dark glasses and windbreaker. She wears a rather ordinary dress, black wig and sunglasses. Everyone rises on their entrance.

RICHARD: Well! You made it!

R.N.: Took the old "Ho Chi Minh trail" along the river and then through a few backyards.

RICHARD: Anyway, you’re safe and sound—

R.N.: It’s a hell of a thing to have to do; a hell of a thing, Richard—

RICHARD: Yes, yes—a hell of a thing. Would you like to change into something more comfortable?

R.N.: No, this stuff’s o.k. You never know when we’ll have to hightail it out of here—

PAT: Well, right now you can both sit down and have some coffee.

R.N.: I’d like to pow-wow with Richard before The Old Man shows up.

RICHARD: Sure, sure—we can go into my study.

PAT: Haven’t you got the time to say hello to Dick and Trish?

R.N.: Dick? Is this Dick? I’m sorry—I didn’t recognize you! And this is—?

DICK: This is Trish, sir—my wife.

R.N.: Your wife? [To RICHARD.] Why didn’t you tell me Dick was getting married?

PAT: We didn’t know they had eloped ourselves until an hour ago.

R.N.: Now that was a damned silly thing to do, Dick. We could have arranged a swell ceremony for you two at the White House.

PATRICIA: [Obviously inebriated, to TRISH.] Hi. I’m Patricia. [Offers hand for a shake.]

TRISH: It’s a pleasure to meet you.

PATRICIA: Is it? Really? Are you sure about that?

R.N.: There’ll be plenty of time for small talk when The Old Man and The First Lady get here—[Moves toward study with RICHARD, then turns.] What about Dick? We can’t leave him alone with all these women, can we Richard? Come on, son—

DICK approaches. R.N. puts arm around his shoulders.

R.N.: Who knows, maybe you’re the one with all the answers, huh? [They cross into study.]

PATRICIA: [As lights fade in livingroom.] Would it be too much trouble to find me a large scotch on the rocks?

Livingroom goes dark as lights come up in study.

R.N.: First things first, Richard. I need a drink.

RICHARD pulls bar out from library wall revealing some of its ‘books’ to have been fakes.

RICHARD: How about you, Dick?

DICK: No, sir. I’m fine.

R.N.: Yeah. I can see you are. You don’t need this poison yet, do you? You’ve still got life by the balls, huh?

DICK: Yes, sir; I guess I have.

RICHARD hands R.N. drink, takes his own behind desk.

RICHARD: Dick’s going into the Navy, R.N. Two weeks in Cape Cod and then it’s a tin can in WestPac.

R.N.: That sounds familiar—[Drinks.] Can’t we do something for Dick? Get him into the J.A.G. or something comfortable like that?

RICHARD: He wants to suffer.

R.N.: Is that true?

DICK: I want to go to sea; yes, sir, that’s true.

R.N.: What in the hell for? [Drinks.] Richard and I both suffered for Old Glory and look where it’s gotten us, for Christ’s sake! You don’t think they’re going to give you a fucking medal for being a nice guy, do you?

DICK: I’m not interested in medals, sir.

R.N.: No? What are you interested in?

DICK: I don’t know—exactly.

R.N.: You must want to go somewhere, be something—

DICK: Maybe I just want to be myself.

R.N.: [Having drained drink, rattles ice in glass.] What’s that supposed to mean?

DICK: I’m not sure it means anything to anyone else but myself. I know what feels right for me.

R.N.: Puking your guts out on a tin can in the Pacific? That sounds "right" to you?

DICK: Yes sir, if that’s the way it has to be.

R.N.: But that’s what we’re saying. It doesn’t have to be that way. You don’t have to spin your wheels for 4 or 5 years. You could be doing something useful and profitable; something that would give you a leg up. There’s no virtue in suffering, is there? Jesus, you don’t like to suffer, do you?

DICK: No, sir.

R.N. raises empty glass. RICHARD notices, takes it away for a refill.

R.N.: I wish to Christ somebody would offer me a way out! I’d even swap for your billet on that tin can!

DICK: If it were in my power, sir, I’d help you do that.

R.N.: [Receives drink, pause.] Do I really look that pathetic to you?

DICK: You look pretty bad, sir.

R.N.: [Looks to RICHARD.] The sonofabitch is pretty fucking candid, isn’t he!

RICHARD: Perhaps it would be better, Dick, if you—

R.N.: No! Let him stay! Maybe a dose of candor is what I need. I’m drowning in asskissers, kid. Even Richard has been known to pucker his lips when I walk into a room. But you’re not eager to kiss my presidential ass, are you? You’re not awed by the majesty of my office; and you’re certainly not awed by me, are you!

DICK: No, sir.

R.N.: [Drinks.] No. No reason why you should be. You’ve got the world by the balls all right—I know the feeling. Not that I’ve had it lately. Lately it’s been the other way around. Somebody’s got their fingers wrapped around my scrotum—and they’re beginning to squeeze real hard. How the hell do I get them to let go! [Pause.] No answer to that? [Drinks.] Isn’t there some kind of animal that bites off its own gonads and leaves them behind when something’s chasing it?

RICHARD: Yeah, I think there is—

R.N.: A groundhog, or something like that?

RICHARD: A gopher. I think it’s a gopher.

R.N.: That’s a hell of a thing—biting off your own balls. I don’t know if I could do that. They must grow back, huh? On the gopher—they grow back?

RICHARD: Damned if I know.

R.N.: They must. They must grow back. But mine wouldn’t, would they?

RICHARD: Metaphorically? Is that what we’re talking about?

R.N.: That’s right. Political balls—some kind of castrational red herring to throw my pursuers off the impeachment track.

RICHARD: Maybe we ought to think along those lines—

R.N.: We have got to start thinking along some kind of lines, goddammit! There has got to be a way out of this! There is always a way out, isn’t there? Haven’t I always found a way out? Haven’t I always come up with the answer? Well? Where is the fucking answer this time!

Lights fade in study and start coming up in livingroom.

DICK: I think it might be in The Old Man’s book—

Darkness envelops the study as R.N. and RICHARD look at DICK.

PATRICIA: Time for a little girl talk, huh? [Drinks, to TRISH.] Hey, you’re real cute. You know that? I like your looks. You know why I like your looks? Laughs.] I have a picture of myself—a picture that looks very much like you—very very much like you—the picture does, that is. Not me. [Drinks.] What do you guys think of my disguise? According to the secret service you can fool your own grandmother in this getup—[Removes wig and examines it.] You think we can trust those bastards? What the hell do they know about my grandmother! But if we can’t trust the secret service, who can we trust? [Pause.]

PAT: Dick and Trish are going to Cape Cod for their honeymoon.

PATRICIA: Of course they are! Is there any other place for a goddamm honeymoon? [Drinks.] You’ll like Cape Cod. You’ll be all alone this early in the season—all by your lonely little selves—you’ll love it. You’ll have a hell of a time up there. All that ocean air! All that screwing! Every time I smell the sea air I think—I remember—you know what I remember? I remember that I haven’t had a good fuck since then! [Laughs into glass, then sips from it.] Whattsa matter? Does that shock you?

TRISH: Yes. Yes!

PATRICIA: Well, ask her. Ask her if she’s had a good fuck since Cape Cod!

PAT: Really Patricia, this is hardly the—

PATRICIA: She has a right to know hasn’t she? [Pause.] What the hell else are we going to talk about? What else is there to talk about? We’re not going to talk about R.N.’s pending impeachment, are we? [Drinks.] You have a right to know, little girl.

TRISH: A right to know what?

PATRICIA: Just what the hell you’re getting yourself into, that’s what. You don’t want to end up like me, do you?

TRISH: I don’t—I can’t—

PATRICIA: Sure you can. You can say it. You don’t have to be afraid of me, little girl. You’re not afraid of me, are you?

TRISH: Yes! I think I am! I think you are terrifying me!

PATRICIA: Why? Because I’m married to R.N.? Or because I’m smashed? Which is it? Or is it both? Or is it because deep down you know. You know there is a damned good chance you will end up like me!

TRISH: No. I’m not going to end up like you. That will never happen. Not to me. Not to Dick and me—

PATRICIA laughs, drinks and begins coughing, having gotten fluid down windpipe. PAT slaps her on back. The coughing subsides.

PATRICIA: Thanks. I needed that.

PAT: Try a little coffee.

PATRICIA: Yes, coffee—[Sips from cup held by PAT.] That was ugly, wasn’t it? That was an ugly little scene I played just now—[To TRISH.] Can’t you look at me when I’m talking to you? You can’t do it, can you? You can’t face it! You want my advice?

PAT: What’s the sense of this?

PATRICIA: I told you: she has a right to know!

TRISH: Yes. I do have a right to know.

PATRICIA: There! You see!

PAT: This isn’t the time or the place or the way to do it. They will be here any minute now and they shouldn’t come in on the middle of a scene—

PATRICIA: You’re absolutely right. No more scenes! There doesn’t have to be a scene. We can be very adult and very calm—very calm. [Demonstrates her own calmness.] There now—we’re all quite calm, aren’t we?

PAT: I know what you’re going to say, Patricia—

PATRICIA: Do you? Do you really?

PAT: Yes.

PATRICIA: How do you know? How can you be so sure of yourself?

PAT: Because we’ve been through all of this before.

PATRICIA: But this time—this time it might be different.

PAT: It’s never different. They’re young—they’re in love. How can it be different?

PATRICIA: Is that the way it is, little girl? Are you really in love with him?

TRISH: Yes.

PATRICIA: I mean really—really, really in love with him?

TRISH: Yes!

PATRICIA: To honor and obey? For better or for worse? You know what that means; for better or for worse? Do you have the remotest idea of what worse really is? This is what it is! This! Me! Him! The two of us! That’s worse! We went to Cape Cod in an old jalopy too! We made love all night long too! We discussed the poetry of the sun rising over the Atlantic! We were young, young, young—and it didn’t make any difference! Why is it going to be different for you?

TRISH: Because we are different. Because we’ve seen—we know what can happen—

PATRICIA: We saw! We knew! [To PAT.] Didn’t we?

PAT: It can be different. It is different. With Richard and me it is different. There’s still time for us.

PATRICIA: You’re a bloody fool if you really think that! There’s only one way out for her. For us it’s too late, but she still has a chance. [To TRISH.] You haven’t slept with him yet, have you? You’re not pregnant?

TRISH: Dick isn’t that sort of man—

PATRICIA: We know what kind of man Dick is! Now, listen to me. I’m stone cold sober right now. Do you believe that I’m sober?

TRISH: —Yes.

PATRICIA: You want me to prove it by walking a straight line? [Rises, walks, closes eyes, brings fingertips together at nose.] See that? [Sits close to Trish, takes her hand.] Now. We’re touching each other. We’re looking each other straight in the eye. I want you to listen to what I’m going to say because what I’m going to tell you will be the most important thing anybody will ever tell you. [Pause.] Don’t go through with this marriage. [Raises other hand to silence TRISH’s protest.] I know how terrible that sounds. But I don’t want you to say anything right now. I just want you to think about what I’ve
said: and why I said it. Will you do that? Good. [Pats TRISH’s hand, retakes seat across from coffee table—then to PAT:] See? No scene.

Lights have been fading in livingroom and now there is darkness. Lights rise in study.

R.N.: So, you know about The Old Man’s book?

RICHARD: He sent a copy to Dick, too.

R.N.: Christ Almighty, how many people has he sent the damned thing to!

RICHARD: I’m sure we’re the only ones—

R.N.: [Leaning, pointing finger at DICK.] You keep your mouth shut! Right?

RICHARD: We can trust Dick.

R.N.: Yeah? Can we? Can we trust anybody?

RICHARD: Dick appreciates the situation. He’s young but he’s got a lot of savvy.

R.N.: Is that right? You appreciate the situation?

DICK: Objectively? I don’t know. I guess I have my own perspective; my own opinions—

R.N.: [Drinks, pause.] When it comes to these memoirs there is only one perspective; only one opinion. Mine. And I say they’re not going to see the light of day until this impeachment thing is behind us.

RICHARD: I don’t think there can be any question about that.

R.N.: No?

RICHARD: The Old Man knows the score. He’s—

R.N.: The Old Man is losing his fucking marbles, that’s what The Old Man is! That goddamm book of his is completely bananas! We’ve got to force him to withhold publication until after his death—Fifty years after his death—a thousand years after his death! If I could only get my hands on the manuscript I would burn the fucking thing. Burn it!

RICHARD: I’m sure we can get him to see things your way.

R.N.: I’m telling you the sonofabitch is crazy, Richard! It’s the book of a crazy man, isn’t it? Isn’t that the way you read it?

RICHARD: There’s a lot of material in there I don’t understand, that’s true enough. There’s a lot of stuff I disagree with, that’s for sure. But that’s why he sent it to us, I think: to get our reaction.

R.N.: I’ll give him my reaction, alright! Maybe he will bring the original with him and we can set fire to it right here. Have you all got your copies? Still, there’s the goddamm secretary who typed it—and maybe more than one secretary. How many secretaries has he got out there? And the sonofabitch probably dictated the thing so there are tapes too; and his notes! Jesus! And, knowing him, he’ll have some secret copies put away somewhere—shit. Maybe I could get the Bureau to work on it—it won’t be easy but maybe, just maybe we can make the whole thing disappear.

DICK: You can’t make the truth disappear.

R.N.: Who the hell is talking about the truth! That shit he wrote; that’s not the truth for Christ’s sake! He’s foaming off at the mouth. The guy is nuts, I’m telling you. He wants to let 60 years’ worth of dirty laundry to hang out for the whole world to see.

DICK: It’s not laundry. He’s baring his soul.

R.N.: His soul? Screw his soul! It’s my ass he’s exposing! It’s me he’s stabbing in the back!

DICK: No, sir. I don’t think that’s the way it is. I think he’s doing it for you.

R.N.: What?!

DICK: I think he has written his memoirs specifically for you—for all of us, really.

R.N.: You think he’s doing me a favor? Well, that kind of "favor" I don’t need. Not now. If he wants to do me a favor he can keep his mouth shut; and so can you. The last thing in the world I need right now is bullshit advice about the meaning of life. My life isn’t going to have any meaning if I don’t get out of this impeachment bind. After that—later, when I’m an old man I can sit down someplace and ponder the meaning of life. Right now the problem is—what am I going to do about the impeachment? Now that’s a nice practical problem for you two guys to tackle, isn’t it—two smart guys like you? Have you come up with any bright ideas, Richard?

RICHARD: I’ve made a list of options—[Takes yellow legal pad from desk.]

R.N.: O.K. Shoot. [Sipping drink, measuring RICHARD over rim of glass.]

RICHARD: These are not in any priority order—

R.N.: Yeah.

RICHARD: First on the list is—resignation. Second: let the impeachment process unfold and cooperate with congress. Third: let the impeachment process unfold but don’t cooperate with congress. Fourth: step aside until the verdict is in. [Pause.]

R.N.: That’s it? That’s all you’ve come up with!

RICHARD: There’s one more possible option—

R.N.: What’s that?

RICHARD: It’s—a hell of a risky proposition; a very high risk thing.

R.N.: But it might work?

RICHARD: It might. It could. If it’s handled right.

R.N.: What the hell are you beating around the bush for?

RICHARD: It’s a scary idea—so scary I didn’t even write it down.

R.N.: What could be more scary than those options you just read to me? They all say the same thing—I haven’t got a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out of this bind with my presidency not being destroyed!

RICHARD: Well, let me just say that this idea—it’s not a personal recommendation or anything like that. It’s just an—abstract possibility—

R.N.: For Christ’s sake Richard—either shit or get off the pot!

DICK: I think I know what he’s thinking—

R.N.: Are you guys playing "keepaway" with me?

RICHARD: Dick’s only guessing. I haven’t discussed this idea with anyone—not even Pat.

R.N.: Alright, alright! What the hell are you trying to tell me?!

DICK: To start a war.

R.N.: Start a war? Is that this bright new idea of yours Richard? [RICHARD nods.] Jesus Christ! We’ve already got a fucking war!

DICK: A small one—

RICHARD: A localized one—

R.N.: What are you saying—that I should take on the Russians?

RICHARD: It’s the only way to turn the domestic heat off.

R.N.: Go nuclear?

RICHARD: If you have to.

R.N.: What do you mean—"If I have to?" How the hell else can it be done? They’d cream our ass in a conventional war. We’d have to hit the bastards first and hit ’em hard.

RICHARD: Well, you know more about the implications than either of us.

R.N.: This isn’t the first time the idea has come up, you know.

RICHARD: Oh?

R.N.: The Old Man thought of the same thing. It’s right there in his book!

RICHARD: I didn’t see that—

DICK: He talks about it alright.

RICHARD: Oh. Well? Why didn’t he try it?

DICK: Simple. He didn’t think he could do it.

RICHARD: Morally, you mean?

R.N.: Morally! What the hell do morals have to do with it?!

RICHARD: Well, we are talking about megadeaths, aren’t we?

R.N.: The megadeaths of Russians! What’s immoral about that? If the thing could be done, impeachment aside, it would be the most moral goddamm thing this country has ever done. Just think! We’d be wiping communism off the face of the earth! That would be the single most significant act in the history of mankind!

RICHARD: Then what did stop The Old Man from doing it?

R.N.: He just didn’t think—he wasn’t sure he could bring it off—maybe that if he pressed the little red button, the people on the other end, in the War Room, would know it wasn’t a signal to launch an attack; it would be a signal that he, The Old Man, had lost his cookies. Five minutes after he pressed that button the men in white suits would have come for him with a straightjacket. And then he would have been branded not just with impeachment or resignation but with the attempted mass murder of the entire world just to save his dirty little political asshole.

RICHARD: Was he right? I mean about those people in the War Room—in The Old Man’s War Room?

R.N.: I don’t know. He never found out.

RICHARD: What about your situation—the people in your War Room?

R.N.: That’s just it. I don’t know either. You can’t ever know until you push that button. The button doesn’t start anything. It only sends a signal to the guy at the other end. All day long I’m pushing presidential buttons and nothing gets done the way I want it. Why should The button be any different?

RICHARD: And a scheme like this has to work perfectly—

R.N.: It’s 4th down and 99 yards to go for the winning touchdown.

RICHARD: Whatever you do in a situation like this, it’s going to be pretty risky.

R.N.: There’s no easy way out, that’s for sure.

DICK: If you knew for certain that the red button would do it, would you go ahead with the holocaust? Is that the only thing that held The Old Man back—thinking he wouldn’t be able to get it started?

R.N.: I don’t buy that horseshit about the "awesomeness" of the decision, if that’s what you’re driving at. I’ve already said that, impeachment notwithstanding, it’s a hell of a good idea. You think Napoleon or Caesar or Alexander would have hesitated if they had had our first strike capability? No. There’s all kinds of moral and historical justification for doing it. In fact, as The Old Man himself pointed out, it might well be the force of destiny working through the impeachment process to create the frame of mind in which such a radical proposal might be considered. Suppose my Soviet opposite number found himself in the kind of political hot water I’m in. You think he wouldn’t consider the same option? So maybe the impeachment message of is a message from God. That’s certainly one way of looking at the thing; of justifying the thing.

RICHARD: There would always be speculation in the history books about your motives—

R.N.: Who gives a shit about that if they are our history books, American history books! That’s my answer to any speculation about my motives, Richard! They’re not Russian history books, are they? There won’t be any more Russian history books! And if the only history books in the future are Russian, then who gives a shit what they say?

RICHARD: So it really comes down to a question of who is at the other end of that red button.

DICK: That isn’t the way it was with The Old Man. That was only one of the questions—

R.N.: The Old Man is lying. It was the only consideration at the time—who is at the other end of that red button? The rest of what he says are the lies any old man tells himself to make himself believe that his life made some kind of sense—that he was some kind of fucking hero because he sacrificed himself for the cause of humanity or some other goddamm thing; that his resignation was a "supreme act of statesmanship."

DICK: What about the Cook County recount?

R.N.: Are you saying the Cook County recount was an act of statesmanship?

DICK: Wasn’t it?

R.N.: Suppose he had demanded the recount and the recount showed he was still the loser?

DICK: You think it was just an act of political calculus?

R.N.: What else is there?

DICK: I can’t believe he would have pressed the button even if he could have. In spite of what he says or you say: he pulled back because of—because of just simple human decency. He had the power to destroy the world and maybe save himself by doing it—but he pulled back because deep down he wasn’t cut out for that kind of butchery. Deep down he wasn’t Caesar or Attila the Hun—or even what he was at the moment, a very exalted personage. That was the moment he realized his entire political career had been a sham, a contrivance—a mistake. A mistake he had made a long time before and had tried to live with. But that simple little mistake he made years and years and years before would not fade away. It wouldn’t die of old age. The ramifications of it kept multiplying and breeding until they overwhelmed him. That simple mistake—a lie he told himself or told somebody else loomed now as a choice between personal disgrace or the obliteration of all humanity. He chose to be disgraced. And in that choice, though he didn’t see it at the time, he had atoned for that old, old lie. Everything had come full circle.

R.N.: [Pause.] Maybe. Maybe that is easy to say when you’re 80. When you’re all washed up. When the game is over. But I can’t say it.

DICK: It doesn’t matter whether you can say it. It only matters whether or not it’s true.

R.N.: If we’re talking about what’s true, what about you? What are you going to do about your first mistake—your first lie? What are you going to do if you don’t do what we’ve done?

RICHARD: In the final analysis, Dick, isn’t The Old Man saying he did what he did because he was what he was at the time?

R.N.: [To DICK.] Are you saying—is The Old Man saying—that we could have become something else—or someone else?

DICK: Yes!

RICHARD: When—when could we have done that?

DICK: Now. Now! Right now!

RICHARD: Do you expect me to give up all this?

DICK: If you don’t want to go through what The Old Man went through. If you don’t want to go through what R.N. is going through. Yes. You’ll have to give it all up.

RICHARD: And what about you? What will you give up?

DICK: When the time comes—

RICHARD: When the time comes? The time is already here! The time is already past for you. You married that girl. You’re going to Cape Cod. You’re dying to get aboard that tin can and go sailing off to a war!

DICK: That’s got nothing to do with what we’re talking about!

R.N.: [Drinking.] You are bullshitting yourself, kid. You are bullshitting yourself and you know it, don’t you—

Lights start to fade in study and rise in livingroom.

R.N.: If you don’t, you’re in a lot of trouble. That’s a weakness we all seem to have—bullshitting ourselves without knowing we are bullshitting ourselves—

Study is dark. In livingroom PAT has delivered fresh drink to PATRICIA.

PATRICIA: Do you blame me for drinking? Do you blame me for becoming what I’ve become? Can you possibly imagine what it was like coming over here in the ass end of a laundry van? Sneaking through backyards like a couple of criminals to get here? I’m 60 years old, honey! How can you handle something like that without some booze? If I’d known 40 years ago that I would have to go through this nightmare, I would have—well, I would have done what I just told you to do.

TRISH: That’s not going to happen to me.

PATRICIA: Why not you?

TRISH: It won’t, that’s all. I won’t let it happen to me.

PATRICIA: What the hell makes you so special?

TRISH: Because I’m me and Dick is Dick.

PATRICIA: You think that makes you better than us?

TRISH: I’m not making value judgments—we’re different, that’s all.

PATRICIA: The hell you’re not making value judgments!

TRISH: Alright; maybe we are a little smarter, a little wiser—

PATRICIA: Why? Because you’ve seen what has happened to us?

TRISH: Yes.

PATRICIA: But we saw too. We saw what had happened to those who went before us. It happened to The Old Man and The First Lady. It’s been happening since the dawn of time. Since the human race climbed out of the trees and emerged from the caves, we have all known. But what you know and what you do are different things, little girl. Deep down you know that Dick is not the man for you—

TRISH: No! I don’t know that!

PATRICIA: There is a feeling in you right now that something is fatally defective about him.

TRISH: Dick is not perfect. I know he’s not perfect. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to turn out like—

PATRICIA: The men we married?

PAT: Now wait a minute! We’re not going to bring my Richard into this discussion, are we?

PATRICIA: Of course we are, darling. How can we discuss a topic like this without bringing your dear Richard into it?

PAT: Well I’m not going to discuss him—not like this: not in this context.

PATRICIA: And what context is that—you mean in the context of the truth?

PAT: The truth is—it’s R.N. who is dragging us all through the mud! You’re not the only one suffering, Patricia. Believe me you are not!

PATRICIA: Oh, I do believe you! I am only saying we are all getting exactly what we deserve to get.

PAT: I think you can only really speak for yourself on that.

PATRICIA: That’s what I’m doing you goddamm fool! I am telling you there is no way out for us as long as we stay with them! Can’t you see what they are doing to us? What they have always done to us?

PAT: No! I don’t see it that way at all!

TRISH: Why in God’s name don’t you leave him then?

PATRICIA: Why don’t you!

TRISH: I’m not the one with a problem!

PAT: Oh, this is really dreadful—dreadful. On a day such as this for us to be doing what we are doing! [Loses control for a few moments, buries face in hands.]

PATRICIA: You’re right. I’m sorry. I apologize—

PAT: [Brightening.] There must be something else we can talk about.

PATRICIA: Yes. There must be. Let’s try.

PAT: They will be here very soon now. For their sake we should try to—brighten things up.

PATRICIA: For everybody’s sake—

PAT: It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Suddenly everything seems so controversial!

TRISH: What about music?

PAT: Music?

TRISH: Dick tells me you play the violin.

PAT: Yes. I do.

TRISH: So do I. I find it a marvelous way to relax—to forget. Not that I’m awfully good at it. But music seems to—take me into a different world. Is that how it is with you?

PAT: —Yes. I like to play.

: TRISH: [To PATRICIA.] Do you like music?

PATRICIA: Do I like music? It’s been such along time since I even thought about an abstract question like that!

TRISH: Right now I’m working on the Tchaikovsky Concerto in D Major. I don’t suppose I will live long enough to master it, but to me it is the most heavenly piece ever written. I’m totally lost in it whenever I play it or hear it. It’s as if Tchaikovsky had written it just for me. Isn’t that silly?

PAT: I have a recording of the D Major by Heifitz. Would you like to hear it?

TRISH: [Clapping hands once.] Oh yes! What a wonderful way to brighten things up! Listening to Heifitz play Tchaikovsky! [To PATRICIA as PAT puts record into player.] Don’t you think so?

PATRICIA: I seem to remember Tchaikovsky making me cry—once upon a time. Is that possible?

TRISH: Of course it’s possible!

PATRICIA: But if the music is beautiful, why should one cry?

TRISH: Just because it is so beautiful!

Music begins. We listen until cadenza is finished. As theme begins, lights fade on women and come up in study. Music will fade but linger after livingroom is dark.

DICK: No. I’m not there yet.

R.N.: You’re not where yet?

DICK: At the point where our paths diverge.

RICHARD: He thinks that point is law school.

R.N.: Law School! What the hell has law school got to do with it? Lots of people go to law school and they don’t end up where I am at. You’re not saying law school is responsible, are you?

DICK: It could be that law school leads inevitably to politics and politics leads inevitably to your present difficulties.

RICHARD: My God, Dick—you can’t seriously believe that, can you? I mean, we can’t live our lives like that—always running away from things.

DICK: It’s not a question of running away from things—

R.N.: What is it then?

DICK: It’s a question of trying to discover what my true nature is and harmonizing my desires with whatever that is.

RICHARD: But that’s it, Dick—that’s exactly what you are trying to run away from now: your true nature. You know damned will you want to go to law school! There is a burning desire in you to do what we have done, isn’t there? Despite what has happened and what will happen to us, that desire is burning inside of you. Admit it!

DICK: That’s only one facet, one desire, one possibility—

RICHARD: But it’s there, isn’t it! It is a part of you, just as it was a part of us. And it is the best part, the hottest part. How in the world are you going to turn that off without freezing to death?

DICK: You’re turning it off for me!

RICHARD: You really think you’d rather be a retired dentist, living with the memories of all the teeth you fixed—than be The Old Man looking back on a life filled with excitement and turbulence and challenge?

DICK: Yes!

R.N.: There you go again kid—bullshitting yourself. You’re beginning to develop your own credibility gap already! That’s been one of our problems all along. Maybe Richard isn’t ready to admit it, but he knows it is true—we are all lousy liars.

DICK: I’m not kidding myself, What you say about what is going on inside of me is true. Partly true, anyway. I’ve got certain desires, certain ambitions. But I am going to suppress them. I know what they are and I know where they will lead; and I just don’t want to go down that road. And I am not going to go down that road. I don’t want to be like you, or you, or The Old Man and that is all there is to it. If I have to be a dentist or a schoolteacher or a bus driver, it doesn’t matter—

RICHARD: Is that you talking—or is it Trish?

DICK: It is both of us talking.

R.N.: I think we’ve wasted enough time on this kind of speculation. We’ve got some practical problems to solve. The first one is The Old Man and his memoirs. He’s got to understand it would be catastrophic for that stuff to surface right now. We’re agreed on that, right?

RICHARD: No question about it.

DICK: I think you are dead wrong on that.

R.N.: Oh for Christ’s sake—

DICK: I think that is the whole point of the memoirs and why The Old Man is suggesting we consider publishing them now.

R.N.: There is nothing new about that approach. It’s the old "Let it all hang out" theory. Only never in our wildest fantasies did we ever consider letting that much hang out. Good God, he’s included everything in this horror story of his. Even the marital details—

RICHARD: Especially the marital details.

DICK: That is what makes it such a brilliant strategy—

R.N.: The Old Man and his "brilliant strategies." He had a strategy for every crisis!

DICK: This time I think he is right.

R.N.: Hey! I thought you were going into dentistry! All of a sudden you’re an expert on Machiavelli! Why the hell should we trust the judgment of a future dentist?

DICK: I’m not asking you to trust anything. I am asking you to look at the merits of the idea unemotionally, dispassionately, pragmatically, and soberly.

RICHARD: That is awfully damned rude of you. Dick. I think you are forgetting just who it is you are talking to.

R.N.: O.k., Richard. You’ve made your obligatory asskissing protestation. Now let’s see if maybe the kid is right.

RICHARD: Well, let’s not forget that I have something at stake here too!

R.N.: You?

RICHARD: Me! Those memoirs could destroy my re-election chances.

R.N.: You mean I have to worry about your career?

RICHARD: What am I—just another flunky you can throw to the wolves?

R.N.: No! I’ll tell you what you are!

DICK: The two of you are behaving like hysterical hasbeens!

R.N.: Listen, you selfrighteous little sonofabitch. I have had it up to here with your adolescent provocations! When you have actually done some of those things you talk about so heroically you can come rejoin the debate and maybe we will listen to what you have to say. Until then either sit there and keep your yap shut or go out and join that other debating society!

DICK rises and crosses to darkened livingroom. As he does so music and lights come up there and fade in the study. DICK sits and listens. The music ends.

TRISH: Wasn’t that lovely? How could such beauty come from a man’s mind? Oh Peter Illyich, how I do love that mind of yours!

PATRICIA: [To DICK.] What’s the matter? You look like you’ve been exiled!

DICK: As a matter of fact I have been!

PATRICIA: Welcome to the club!

PAT: You know what I’m thinking? It’s such a lovely day, why don’t we have the lunch out on the patio?

TRISH: That sounds wonderful!

DICK: Dining al fresco could present problems.

PAT: Problems? You mean the temperature?

DICK: I was thinking more about telephoto lenses and line-of-sight microphones.

PAT: They wouldn’t—

PATRICIA: He’s right. Young Dick is absolutely right! R.N. would say exactly what Dick just said if you asked him about eating outside. Anyone want to bet on that?

PAT: It really was a silly idea—what with the insects and the possibility of a chill setting in. After all, they are 80 years old. It’s hard to believe but they are very old and very fragile people now.

TRISH: Still, they say if you make it that far there must be a reason for going even farther. No reason they can’t live to be 100 is there?

PAT: [At French doors.] Would you believe it’s getting cloudy? The weather is changing completely.

PATRICIA: It wouldn’t surprise me if it actually rains. My joints have been sending storm warnings all morning—[Looks at her hands, mimes playing violin.]

TRISH: Did you play too?

PATRICIA: Of course I played!

As lights fade in livingroom PATRICIA mimes playing while singing theme of D Major Concerto. Darkness. Lights up in study.

R.N.: One thing we have got to get straight on this business of your survival. You can’t survive unless I survive. [Pause.] Isn’t that right? Isn’t that the way you see it? How in hell can you stay afloat if I go down the tubes? The whole party will go up in flames if I’m forced out of office!

RICHARD: It has happened before—

R.N.: You mean when The Old Man went down for the count? That is not the same thing—

RICHARD: Now who is bullshitting who?

R.N.: What are you talking about? I never bailed out on him. I was with him right until the bitter fucking end.

RICHARD: That’s the way it looked, alright.

R.N.: That’s the way it was. What the hell do you know about it? You weren’t there.

RICHARD: But I’m here now and I can see that what you did to him makes sense to me.

R.N.: I didn’t do a damned thing to him!

RICHARD: Or for him!

R.N.: What could I have done for him? What could anybody have done for him!

RICHARD: What you’re asking me to do for you—give you moral support—lead the floor fight —show some backbone— come up with brilliant scenarios. Battle on back to back until there is nothing left but to fall on our own swords. Isn’t that what you expect me to do for you? But you didn’t do that for him. In the end, you survived. You survived and you flourished! Nobody fell on their own swords, did they?

R.N.: Is that what you want me to do? Suicide?

RICHARD: It’s one of the options. I didn’t write that one down either, but it should be included, I think.

R.N.: It’s an option, alright. But the way you say it, it sounds more like a fucking recommendation!

RICHARD: I haven’t really made up my mind on that yet—

R.N.: You haven’t made up your mind about my suicide? Do you know how that sounds?

RICHARD: Insolent? Arrogant?

R.N.: I don’t believe this! Even you’ve turned against me! The treachery is so total—so complete! Every one of you motherfuckers has turned against me—

RICHARD: You shouldn’t take it personally, R. N. It’s strictly politics.

R.N.: It’s strictly the rats deserting a sinking ship.

RICHARD: That’s the same thing, isn’t it? The ship is sinking. And the only one obligated to go down with it is the captain. Isn’t that what we were taught in the Navy? That’s the risk you take when you’re number one—[R.N. goes to bar to fix himself drink.] In my place you know you’d do the same thing. What sense does it make for all of us to go down together?

R.N.: I’m not going down. And you know why I’m not going down, you sonofabitch? Just to spite you. I’m going to fight like I’ve never fought before just so I can break you up into little bloody pieces. I’ll tell you one thing, Richard: I’ll be a hell of a lot stronger with you against me.

RICHARD: You haven’t got a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out of this one, R.N. It would take a better man than The Old Man himself and you’re not good enough for that.

PAT pokes head into study.

PAT: They’re here!

R.N.: We’ll be right in, Pat. I just want to say one more word to Richard.

PAT: Just one more word now. That’s a promise!

PAT crosses to livingroom where lights rise slowly to reveal THE OLD MAN and FIRST LADY exchanging greetings with PATRICIA, DICK and TRISH.

R.N.: I just wanted to tell you, Richard, that I’ve always thought of you as a complete horse’s ass. I didn’t want you to think that you had ever, ever pulled the wool over my eyes. [Lights begin to fade on them.]

RICHARD: As long as we’re being frank let me just say I don’t give a damn what you think about me. It doesn’t matter any more. I don’t think it ever did.

R.N.: [Pause.] You know, just now I was going to throw the rest of this drink in your face—but that would have been a waste of good bourbon. [Finishes drink.]

RICHARD: That should give you the courage to face The Old Man.

R.N.: I’ll show you what kind of courage I have, Richard—

R.N. knees RICHARD in groin. RICHARD doubles over with hoarse cry of pain. R.N. immediately sallies forth into livingroom and opens his arms wide to embrace THE OLD MAN and FIRST LADY. CURTAIN or fade to black as exuberant greetings are exchanged. The only sound is the agonizing one still being made by RICHARD in the study.

End Act One

Act Two     Return to Index