.

THE jOURNAL OF
AMERICAN DRAMA AND THEATRE
Volume 10, Number 3
Editor: Vera Mowry Roberts
Co-Editor: Jane Bowers
Managing Editor: Lars Myers
Editorial Assistants: Robert C. Roarty
Editorial Coordinator: Susan Tenneriello
Circulation Manager: Susan Tenneriello
Circulation Assistants:
Melissa Gaspar
Patricia Herrera
Bruce Kirle
Ramon Rivera-Servera
Edwin Wilson, Director
Fall 1998
CENTER FOR ADVANCED STUDY OF THEATRE ARTS
THE GRADUATE SCHOOL AND UNIVERSITY CENTER
OF THE CITY UNIVERSITY OF NEW YORK
Editorial Board
Stephen Archer
Ruby Cohn
Bruce A. McConachie
Margaret Wi I kerson
Don B. Wilmeth
Fe I icia Londre
The journal of American Drama and Theatre welcomes submissions.
Our aim is to promote research on American playwrights, plays, and
theatre, and to encourage a more enlightened understanding of our
literary and theatrical heritage. Manuscripts should be prepared in
conformity with The Chicago Manual of Style, using footnotes (rather
than endnotes). Hard copies should be submitted in duplicate. We
request that articles be submitted on disk as well (3.5" floppy). We prefer
the articles to be in WordPerfect for Windows format (versions 5.1 and
. 6.0), but most word processor formats_ (Mac and PC) are accepted.
Windows 95 formats are not accepted at this time. Submissions will not
be returned unless accompanied by a stamped, self-addressed envelope.
Please allow three to four months for a decision. Our distinguished
Editorial Board will constitute the jtJry of selection. Address editorial .
inquiries and manuscript submissions to the Editors, }ADT, Ph.D.
Program in Theatre, CUNY Graduate Center, 33 West 42 Street, New
York, New York 10036-8099. We can also be reached by e-mail at:
jadtjour@email.gc.cuny.edu
CASTA Publications are supported by generous grants
from the Lucille Lortel Chair in Theatre and the Sidney E.
Cohn Chair in Theatre Studies in the Ph.D. Program in
Theatre at the City University of New York.
CAST A Copyright 1998
The journal of American Drama and Theatre (ISSN 1 044-937X) is a member of
CELJ and is published three times a year, in the Winter, Spring, and Fall.
Subscriptions are $12.00 for each calendar year. Foreign subscriptions require
an additional $6.00 for postage. Inquire of CASTA, CUNY Graduate School, 33
West 42 Street, New York, New York 10036-8099.
THE jOURNAL OF AMERICAN DRAMA AND THEATRE
Volume 10, Number 3 Fall 1998
Contents
ERIC M. LEVINE, Hidden Perspectivism:
A Contemporary N ietzschean Approach to
O'Neill's Days Without End 1
WILLIAM F. CON DEE, "Rise and Fall of the Mustache":
Opera House and Culture in Late Nineteenth-
and Early Twentieth-Century Appalachia 12
MIKE RIGGS, Paradox Now 21
GLENDA GILL, Love in Black and White:
Miscegenation on the Stage 32
JEFF jOHNSON, Sexual Symmetry and Moral Balance in
William lnge's Bus Stop 52
INDEX TO}AOT, VOLUMES 5-10 61
CONTRIBUTORS 7 4
journal of American Drama and Theatre 1 0 (Fall 1998)
Hidden Perspectivism:
A Contemporary N ietzschean Approach to
O'Neill's Days Without End
ERIC. M. LEVIN
In the following passage from Ecce Homo, Friedrich Nietzsche
explains why his masterwork Thus Spake Zarathustra failed to capture the
attention of the intellectual community of his time. He writes:
Suppose a book speaks only of experiences which lie entirely
outside the range of general or even exceptional
knowledge-suppose it to be the first expression of an entirely
new series of experiences. In this case nothing it contains will
really be heard at all, and, by an acoustical delusion, people will
assume that where nothing is heard there is nothing to hear.
1
Looking at Nietzsche's words from a contemporary vantage, a time
in which Nietzsche's metaphysical stance as articulated in Zarathustra is
considered highly significant, one might con.descendingly look at the
scholars of the past and wonder how such profound thinking could have
been ignored or misinterpreted for so long.
While Zarathustra as a philosophical work was disregarded by the
scholarly community for more than fifty years, it would be a mistake to
assume that its metaphysical message did not have a profound effect on
those who recognized its value. It would be equally erroneous to assume
that because those early devotees of Nietzsche's most popular work
I ived prior to our own "postmodern" era that their understanding of
Nietzsche's message must be seen solely in terms of a "modernist"
context. Moreover, that Nietzsche's message was "outside the realm of
general ... knowledge" does not preclude the possibility that artists
influenced by the philosopher's writing might produce works reflecting
contemporary N ietzschean metaphysics.
1
Friedrich Nietzsche, "Ecce Homo, " in Philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche,
Clifton P. Fakiman, ed. (New York: The Modern Library, 1927), 856.
2 LEVIN
Eugene O'Neill's artistic and personal alliance with Nietzsche's
Zarathustra has been well documented. It is virtually impossible to find
a comprehensive examination of O'Neill or his work which fails to refer
to the playwright's debt to Nietzsche. O'Neill claimed that Thus Spake
Zarathustra, " influenced me more than any book I've ever read ... every
year or so I reread it and am never disappointed."
2
O'Neill's affinity for
Zarathustra is often described in religious terms. According to Louis
Sheaffer, author of a significant two volume O'Neill biography, "As the
pious find comfort and guidance in the Bible, O'Neill used to turn to
Zarathustra."
3
Robert Brustein, commenting on the "religious-
philosophical" aspects of O'Neill's plays, writes that " [O'Neill's]
religious ideas are almost all culled from Thus Spake Zarathustra."
4
Yet,
while scholars often acknowledge the importance of Zarathustra to
O'Nei ll's personal philosophy, most critical analyses focus on O'Neill's
use of The Birth of Tragedy as a model for his dramatic structure and
perception of tragedy.
The lack of critical attention to the influence of Zarathustra on
O'Neill's work is understandable as Zarathustra has only recently
reached prominence as a significant philosophical document informing
contemporary cultural and literary studies. By focusing on The Birth of
Tragedy rather than Zarathustra, scholars of the past were able to
acknowledge O'Neill's admitted Nietzschean influence and still stay in
relatively charted waters by conce11trating on the modernist theatrical
techniques which O'Neill frequently employed and locating them within
the context of Nietzsche's Apollonian/Dionysian dichotomy. Yet
traditional analyses fail to acknowledge O'Neill's particular attraction to
Zarathustra and the way in which his understanding of this document
informs his work. While it is difficult to assess the exact nature of
O'Neill's understanding of Zarathustra, it is possible to examine O'Neill's
work in light of contemporary interpretations of Nietzsche's masterwork
to uncover new insights into the playwright's drama. This process proves
useful when examining one of O'Neill's least successful and most
personal plays: Days Without End.
2
Eugene O'Neill , Selected Letters of Eugene O'Neill, Travis Bogard and Jackson
R. Bryer, eds. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988), 245-246.
3
Louis Sheaffer, O'Neill: Son and Playwright (New York: Paragon House, 1968),
123.
4
Robert Brustein, The Theatre of Revolt (Boston: Little Brown and Company,
1962), 329.
Days Without End 3
Fundamental to such an inquiry is the understanding that while The
Birth of Tragedy and Thus Spake Zarathustra share a similar metaphysical
foundation, they were written at very different times in Nietzsche's career
and for very different purposes. The Birth of Tragedy is an examination
of drama in which action is driven by conflict. Thus, The Birth of
Tragedy focuses on the Apollonian/Dionysian dichotomy which
Nietzsche proposes as a metaphor for the primary tragic conflict in
classical drama. Zarathustra, while written in tragic form, focuses on the
metaphysical development of its protagonist. In it Nietzsche employs a
very different set of metaphors to describe this philosophical progression.
In Thus Spake Zarathustra, Nietzsche describes three spiritual levels,
which he calls "the three metamorphoses"
5
-a parable foreshadowing
Zarathustra's spiritual journey which. occupies the remainder of the work.
The first spiritual level is the camel whose spirit is marked by the
willingness to use its strength to bear weight for others. The camel
represents the individual who is content to consign the spirit to an
absolutist god and dedicate I ife to service. Nietzsche describes the
master of the camel as a golden dragon, a mythical beast, whose values
are of the past, but who continues to rule the camel with the command,
"Thou shalt!"
6
The camel responds, "I shall." The camel spirit
represents the few who are willing to suffer in the service of their
absolutist belief system.
The second level is symbolized by the lion, who denies the dragon's
power with the words, "I will."
7
The lion is a selfish beast who cannot
create new values for itself, but rejects the values of the dragon. By
rejecting the dragon's values, the lion takes an important step toward
spiritual freedom. The lion is evil because the lion is aware of the moral
structure but takes pleasure in rejecting it. Yet, the lion is also bound to .
the absolutist metaphysic of the golden dragon through its opposition.
It is "forced to find illusion and arbitrariness even in the holiest things."
8
Thus, it is this spiritual state in which the nihilism associated with both
Nietzsche and O'Neill come into play. The lion character is often found
in O'Neill's plays, rejecting the accepted metaphysical order of the
universe and trying to replace that order with an alternative construct
5
Friedrich Nietzsche, "Thus Spake Zarathustra," in The Portable Nietzsche,
Walter Kaufman, ed. (New York: Random House, 1967), 22.
6
lbid., 24.
7
Ibid.
8
Ibid.
4
lEVIN
only to reject the new order upon discovering that it does not satisfy the
desire for Truth. Finally, the O'Neillian lion is forced to admit spiritual
defeat through self-deception, alcoholism, suicide or insanity.
The third and highest level of Nietzsche's metamorphoses is the
child. The child's spirit is moved by "Innocence ... and forgetfulness,
a new beginning, a game, a self-rolling wheel, a first movement, a holy
Yea."
9
The child has no knowledge of the dragon or the dragon's values.
Disassociated from all structure, the child involves itself in free-play. It
is able to experiment with life and to accept, reject or create beliefs as it
sees fit. There is no past nor a future; all is present. The child says, "I
can," and does so because no structure offers guidance as to right and
wrong.
10
The child is beyond good and evil.
Freedom of thought and action is for Nietzsche the highest spiritual
goal. The spirit of the child represents complete personal autonomy in
which the subject itself becomes the golden dragon to which all moral
authority is given. For the child spirit the structure of existence is no
longer viewed in opposition to any other absolutist ideal, but is devel-
oped through experience. Thus, the goals of the child spirit are rooted
in present experience rather than the sins of the past or hope of salvation
for the future. The childlike state of this third spiritual level can be
described in contemporary metaphysical terms as Perspectivism.
N ietzschean Perspectivism, when applied to O'Neill's work, suggests
a very different critical approach.from traditional, oppositional modern-
ism. In the case of Days Without End, critics and scholars have limited
their inquiry to a biographical examination of O'Neill's lifelong anti-
Catholic position in opposition to the play's seeming pro-Catholic stance.
By using the three metamorphoses as a structural model for Days Without
End, the play can be seen in terms of the spiritual development of its
main character. Before examining Days Without End in light of
N ietzschean Perspectivism, however, a brief summary of the play is in
order.
Days Without End is the story of John Loving's search for meaning in
life. Loving is split into two roles on stage: John, the seeker of truth and
of a faith in which he can believe, and his alter ego Loving, a masked
character who controverts John's quest, insisting that "there is nothing-
nothing to hope for, nothing to fear-neither gods nor devils-nothing at
9
Ibid. , 25.
10
Ibid.
Days Without End 5
all."
11
The words of both characters appear to the other characters to be
those of john. Through this device O'Neill explicates the self-destructive-
ness of the individual by making John Loving simultaneously protagonist
and antagonist.
Because of the play's late point of attack, much of the early dialogue
is exposition. John's lifelong search for truth began when both his
parents died. He lost his belief in the Catholic God and began to look
elsewhere for a foundation for his beliefs. His search included atheism,
socialism, anarchism, Nietzschean philosophy, communism, Eastern
philosophy, numerology and evolutionary science. At the opening of the
play, John believes that meaning in his life comes from the perfect love
he shares with his wife Elsa.
In Act I John and Loving discuss the thinly veiled autobiographical
novel that John is writing. They argue about possible endings for the
story. John wishes the story to end with the wife forgiving her husband
for a terrible sin. Loving insists that the end should include the death of
the wife and the suicide of the hero.
The main action of the play mirrors John's story. john is visited by
his former guardian, a priest. He explains his book to the priest in the
presence of his wife who then realizes that John has had sexual relations
with her best friend. She becomes deathly ill, losing the will to live.
John's alter ego attempts to hasten her death while the priest tries to draw
john back to Catholicism. Torn between these two extremes, john flees
to the church of his youth.
The final scene takes place in a church. John enters with Loving
"retreating backward before john whom he. desperately, but always
without touching him, endeavors to keep from entering the church"
(564). john ignores Loving and kneels before the altar. He identifies
himself with the crucifix saying, "I am Thou and Thou art I" (565). He
offers his forgiveness and asks for forgiveness in return. Loving slumps
to the floor and john rises "and stands with arms stretched up and out
.. . like a cross" (566). Father Baird enters with news of Elsa's recovery
as john cries out, "Life laughs with love!" (567).
Traditional criticism of this play examines it in terms of an
Apollonian/Dionysian dichotomy. According to this interpretation, John
is presented through two opposing metaphysics. The first, represented by
a t h e ~ r Baird, is one which he previously rejected as false. The second,
represented by Loving, leads to nihilism and death. This metaphysical
structure, by virtue of its oppositional nature, forces one to view the play
11
Eugene O'Neill, " Days Without End," in The Plays of Eugene O'Neill (New
York: Random House, 1955), 495. All subsequent citations appear in the text.
6 LEVIN
in terms of religious absolutism or good versus evil. When seen from this
perspective, the plot of Days Without End, despite its modernist
trappings, differs little from the romantic melodrama O'Neill spent his life
rejecting. It was this perception which led critics to view this play as
O'Neill 's worst and which, some say, led O'Neill to a ten year hiatus
from theatrical production.
The major problem faced when atter:npting to formulate an approach
to Days Without End is to discover a through line of thought and action
which moves the play forward. Traditional assumptions concerning the
play based on biographical speculation about O'Neill's own religious
quest have led interpreters to assume that the final moments of the play
represent a return to traditional faith. This approach denies any forward
dramatic movement as it returns John Loving to his previous state of faith,
a state which he has disavowed throughout the play. This circular
movement suggests that John Loving's lifelong quest has been futile. The
inference of this reading is that Loving would have been better served to
have never begun his quest for the meaning of life because his own
Catholic traditions contain that meaning. Moreover, this structure returns
John to a philosophical state which is never represented on the stage but
is only discussed in the text of the play. Thus, John's alleged return to
faith provides no real sense of closure as his previous faith is far removed
from dramatic actualization.
The present examination will suggest that the final moments of the
play represent a new level of understanding for John Loving, an under-
standing which is not buried in past beliefs nor based solely on the denial
of these beliefs. Rather, it represents an acceptance of a Perspectivist
stance which frees John from his spiritual crisis. A model for Loving's
metaphysical journey can be found in the parable of "the three
metamorphoses" in Thus Spake Zarathustra .. John Loving's three states
of spirituality can be represented by Nietzsche's camel, lion, and child.
Such an approach provides the play with forward dramatic movement
and provides a climax to John Loving's metaphysical crisis which could
not have been realized had he never questioned his faith.
The young John Loving who is described by O'Neill through John's
account of the hero in his novel can be seen as representing Nietzsche's
first spiritual level: the camel. John Loving's youth is described in Act
One as idyllic. He is an only child whose father is "a fine man" and
whose mother is "a perfect type of our old beautiful ideal of wife and
mother" (509). Such metaphysical security leads to complacency as one
must protect one's happiness by refusing to question the nature of life and
by relinquishing one's self-determination to an all powerful being. The
metaphysical fallacy here is that young Loving sees his happiness as a
direct result of his faith and of the faith of his parents.
Days Without End 7
Since his contentment was perceived as a gift from God for his
devotion, the death of his father which disrupts his happiness is also seen
as an act of God as punishment for some unknown sin. Rather than
question his belief system, young John places his own fate in the hands
of his God and becomes even more devout. When his mother also
becomes ill, "he also imagined her sickness was a terrible warning to
him, a punishment for the doubt inspired in him by his father's death"
(511}. In a camel-like manner, the young Loving bears the burden of his
faith by relating all that occurs in his life to his faith in God and blaming
his own lack of faith as the only possible cause of death of his parents.
Thus in order to maintain the myth upon which his security rests, the
camel-like john Loving must also take responsibility for events over
which he has no control. Even after John rejects the Church, his camel-
like qualities continue. John takes responsibility for Elsa's illness,
blaming it on his own infidelity. The guilt which drives John to the
Church of his youth in the final scene of the play can be seen as similar
to the guilt which drove him from the Church in the first place. Since
john lacks the power to change the history of his sin, he seeks forgiveness
from a supernatural being which he endows with the power to forgive
what he cannot change.
The camel-like qualities suggested by the description of John Loving's
youth are also represented by the priest Matthew Baird. Through
physical resemblance between Baird and John, O'Neill suggests that
Baird is the type of man John might have become had his faith never
been shaken. "There is a clear resemblance to john and Loving in the
general cast of his [Baird's] features and the color of his eyes" (500}.
Unlike John, Baird possesses "an unshakable inner calm and certainty,
the peace of one whose goal in life is fixed by an end beyond life" (500}.
Such serenity might have been John's had he never questioned the
existence of God and had he followed his dream as a youth and become
a priest (51 0} .
Yet Father Baird's metaphysical serenity has been achieved at the cost
of his personal involvement with the immediacy of life, as demonstrated
in Act One when Baird and John's business partner discuss the Great
Depression. Baird sees the Depression as an act of God which has little
to do with his own life except to prove the power of God. He says to
Loving's business partner "who can blame you for whining when your
omnipotent Golden Calf explodes into sawdust before your adoring eyes
at the height of his deification? It's tragic, no other word-unless the
word be comic" (501}. For Baird, the Depression is an indication that his
own faith is correct and those who strive for worldly possessions are
suffering at he hands of God. Like young john, Baird believes that the
individual's condition is a reflection of his faith. By inference then, all
8
LEVI N
who suffer deserve their fate. By blindly adhering to the morals of his
own faith without question, Father Baird has escaped material suffering
and is able to look with amusement at the suffering of others. In this
manner, Baird exemplifies the spiritual level of the camel.
John's camel-like qualities are clearly described anq demonstrated in
the play. Yet John's outlook on life differs from that of his uncle due to
John's rejection of his childhood faith. John's rejection of such absolut-
ism is symbolized by his alter ego, Loving. Loving represents that part of
John which has achieved another level of spirituality, a level which
Nietzsche described as "the loneliest wilderness," the spirit of the l ion
(24). John possesses the spirit of the lion as he has rejected his duty to his
faith and instead has searched for new values which might give his life
meaning.
The lion cannot create new values, however. Its sole role is to reject
the old values creating the possibility of moving to a higher spiritual
level. John Loving has spent his life rejecting the traditional values of
Catholicism and embracing a series of value systems all of which offer
differing versions of absolute truth. None of these value systems can long
withstand the questioning nature of Loving's lion spirit.
Loving can be seen as the pure lion spirit, the nay-sayer, the nihilist.
While John looks for metaphysical meaning, Loving rejects all possibility
of absolute order within the universe. Thus, John and Loving are fully
integrated and each fulfills a function within John Loving's philosophical
search for truth.
The specific nature of the struggle between the I ion and the searcher
portrayed in Days Without End involves John's belief that metaphysical
truth might be found in his perfect love with Elsa. Because of this love,
John has curtailed his search for truth. Loving fulfills his role as spiritual
lion by denying love as an absolute force in which the individual can find
eternal comfort. By evoking images of Elsa's death, Loving attempts to
demonstrate the fallacy of John's faith in love.
Therefore, it is the function of Loving as lion to prevent John from
any sort of self-deception which would allow him to cease his quest for
truth and settle for a camel-like state, blindly accepting a set of values
which might pass as "Truth." Loving denies all absolute values, as when
he tells John in Act I, "You poor, damned superstitious fool! I tell you
again what I have always told you: There is nothing-nothing to hope for,
nothing to fear-neither devils nor gods-nothing at all!" (495). Yet John
rejects Loving's claim that life has no meaning and gropes to find "Truth"
which can fill the void left by his rejection of the religion of his youth.
~ e play reveals that "perfect love" is not the end of John's quest
despite its potentially redeeming aspects. Loving is able to demonstrate
to John that it is just as arbitrarily confining as any other absolutist' moral
Days Without End 9
system by instigating a sexual liaison with Elsa's best friend. John's sin of
having an extra-marital affair causes the same kind of guilt in John as did
his rejection of the Catholic God of his youth. The failure of love to
provide john with absolute meaning demonstrates that meaning cannot
be found outside of one's self. In order to secure the happiness through
love which john craves, he must first find fulfillment and meaning within
himself.
The possibility is also clearly present that john will accept Loving's
philosophy and allow himself to descend into a state of pure nihilism. By
splitting the character into two bodies, O'Neill suggests that John is in the
midst of a monumental struggle between accepting the security of
absolute belief and rejecting all values because no one value system is
satisfactory. John's poetic strength can be seen in his continuing search
for spiritual truth when confronted with the spiritual certainty of Catholic
absolutism represented by Father Baird on the one hand, and the
seemingly logical alternative of nihilism represented by Loving on the
other. With no other apparent alternative available, John enters the
church of his youth in the final scene of the play where the last battle for
john Loving's soul occurs.
While there is no apparent alternative for John between absolutism
and complete nihilism as he enters the church, the final moments of the
play suggest that John does not return to the religion of his youth nor
does he embrace nihilism. The last scene of the play, through its
language and use of visual imagery, suggests that John reaches a third
level of spirituality, the child-spirit.
Loving enters first trying to stop john from approaching the crucifix.
"Loving is forced back until the back of his head is against the foot of the
Cross" (564). John is therefore presented with two contrary icons before
which he kneels, the cross and Loving. John's pleas to the symbol of his
Catholic youth go unheard initially as he asks for pity. Loving appears to
have won as he exclaims, "There is no pity! There is only scorn" (565).
john stops pleading, pausing for a moment.
John's next speech implies a significant deviation from his previous
pleading and from traditional Catholic prayer. He says:
0 Son of Man, I am Thou and Thou art I! Why hast Thou
forsaken me? 0 Brother Who lived and loved and suffered and
died with us, Who knoweth the tortured hearts of men, canst
Thou not forgive-now-when I surrender all to Thee--when I
have forgiven Thee-the love that Thou once took from me!
(565)
10 LEVIN .
By referring to the godhead as Son of Man rather than Son of God,
O'Neill severs jesus from his supernatural status and places him in the
realm of mortals. "I am Thou and Thou art I" suggests that john himself
is now the godhead to which he is praying. John reprimands the
godhead for its. lack of forgiveness and demonstrates his own capacity for
forgiveness, a "Christian" act which exceeds that of the Christian icon.
In this moment of forgiveness, John demonstrates that he has risen above
both the camel and lion spirits to an independent spirituality in which he
is both god and supplicant. It is also at this moment that john experi-
ences a perspectivist revelation as "his eyes fixed on the face of the
Crucified suddenly light[ing] up as if he now saw there the answer to his
prayer" (565). Now willing to take responsibility for his own spiritual
being, john becomes his own savior.
John's next line concludes, "I can forgive myself-through Thee! I
can believe!" (565). john has found faith through his own capacity to
overcome the guilt of his past sins. At this point of affirmation, Loving the
Nay-sayer weakens and cries out his only possible response to John's new
found faith, "I deny! I defy Thee! Thou canst not conquer me! I hate
Theel I curse Thee!" (565). Loving falls, crushed under the weight of
John's new found faith. He falls with his arms outstretched "so that his
body forms another cross" (566). This visual image likens Loving, now
dead, to the other symbol of belief, the crucifix with its representation of
the dead Christ.
John rises and he too takes the position of Christ on the cross. This
moment indicates that each of the figures on stage represent a god. Christ
as the God of the camel-spirit, Loving the god of the lion-spirit and John
as the god of the child-spirit. Of the three, only John is a living being
now fully independent from the others.
In this moment of personal power, John is informed by Father Baird
that Elsa will live, a fact already known by the audience. john responds,
"I know! Love lives forever! Death is dead!" (567). In this moment, John
reveals that his fear of Elsa's death and his own guilt-inspiring responsibil-
ity for her life are past. In taking responsibility for his own life, John gives
to his love Elsa the responsibility for her own life. The inference here is
that by accepting responsibility for one's own morality and no one else's,
the true love which john hoped for with Elsa is now possible.
The conclusion of Days Without End reveals a potential for happiness
which can only be realized by reaching a state of personal independence.
John creates a Nietzschean joy for life by discovering a Perspectivist
metaphysic which releases him from guilt associated with society's
arbitrary mores and restrictions. This discovery ends his quest for Truth
by empowering him to accept himself as the sole arbiter of truth.
Days Without End 11
While the 1934 production of Days Without End was a critical and
financial failure, O'Neill never lost his optimism concerning the value of
the play stating, "For me it was a success."
12
Obviously, this play
articulated something for O'Neill which was lost on the majority of critics
and spectators during its run. Perhaps the play's failure was due, not to
its inferior quality, but to the same kind of "acoustical delusion"
described by Nietzsche in Ecce Homo. Perhaps O'Neill's metaphysical
stance, derived from his understanding of Thus Spake Zarathustra, was
simply incomprehensible to the modernists of the time.
Such a possibility demands an artistic as well as critical re-evaluation
of the play. This study suggests that Days Without End can best be
understood as a metaphysical journey rather than a confrontation
between truth and falsehood. In theatrical terms, this approach releases
the play's text from the limits of psychological realism traditionally
associated with O'Neill's work and suggests that a more contemporary
style might better communicate the play's meaning. Moreover, it
relocates that meaning within a Perspectivist metaphysic through which
one can spy an as yet undiscovered Eugene O'Neill.
12
Arthur and Barbara Gel(>, O'Neill (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1962), 784.
journal of American Drama and Theatre 10 (Fall 1998)
"The Rise and Fall of the Mustache":
Opera House and Culture in Late
and Early Twentieth-Century Appalachia
William F. Candee
. During the last quarter of the nineteenth- and the early decades of the
twentieth-century, many opera houses were built in Appalachian Ohio
for a population that was growing in size and affluence. The opera house
was a nexus of diverse cultural activity. Its broad range of performance
and non-performance events created a point of intersection for all
members of the community.
Southeastern Ohio was relatively undeveloped until the 1860s, when
the area was quickly developed, primarily for coal mining. Boom towns
suddenly appeared. But Southeastern Ohio's prosperity was short lived.
The quality of the coal and iron was not as high as what could be mined
elsewhere, and other oil fields were far more productive. The serious
dec! ine of the economy and population started about 1930, coinciding
with the nationwide Depression. Because of the lack of other economic
development, the buildings containing these opera houses were not torn
down or replaced, and the spaces were not developed for other uses.
The opera houses were simply boarded up and largely forgotten. The
boom period of Southeastern Ohio-1870s to 1920s-is precisely the era
of the opera houses.
The title "opera house" was a euphemism to evade moral, cultural
and religious objections. The term "opera," misleading in that opera was
rarely performed, provided a veneer of cultural and social respectability
and avoided the stigma of "theatre." The evidence suggests, however,
that while the title "opera house" may be deceptive, the tempting
alternative "theatre," with its implication of theatrical performance, is
equally misleading.
Theatre historians, wearing the blinders of the discipline, tend to see
an opera house as actually being a theatre. Previous studies of opera
houses have focused on theatrical and dramatic performances. Theatre
historians have recorded the plays, companies, stars, and vaudeville and
minstrel troupes that were at the opera houses, along with the
nature and origin of the scenery. For example, in their recent book,
Opera House and Culture in Appalachia 13
American Theaters: Performance Halls of the Nineteenth Century, David
Naylor and joan Dillon state, "Of course, this building may be known as
an opera house, or a music hall, or a chautauqua .. .. Collectively, by us,
they will always be known as theaters, and be no less sweet for that."
Their study separates "Eastern Town Hall Opera Houses" and "Theatrical
Venues in the Midwest," with an emphasis on theatrical performance,
from "Revival Halls and the Chautauqua Circuit" and "Community Halls
and Library Theaters," in which they mention religious, educational and
community events.
1
Evidence from Appalachian Ohio, however, does
not support these distinctions. All these events occurred in all the opera
houses.
Theatrical and dramatic performances were no doubt important, and
they played a significant role in the lives of these opera houses. But
plays, vaudeville and minstrelsy do not alone explain what made these
opera houses popular. Research indicates that a roughly equal number
of evenings were filled with what audiences would then likely have
considered "non-theatrical" events. (One can use performance theory
to question the validity of that perception, but late-nineteenth century
visitors to the opera house probably differentiated between a union
meeting or a commencement ceremony, on the one hand, and Zarrow's
Pig Revue or Four Dwarves Dancing on Each Others' Heads, on the
other.)
The events described here indicate how the opera house nested in
the culture of its time. The opera house was not so much a theatre as a
community hall. It was used for concerts, evangelical meetings, lectures,
high school commencements, boxing matches, benefits for local
organizations, lectures, union meetings and, if the auditorium had a flat
floor, skating and basketball. During the early decades of the twentieth
century, opera houses were retrofitted for showing movies. They were
truly multipurpose, multiuse facilities that were inextricably intertwined
with the life of the community. In the era before radio, movies, television
and malls, these buildings were essential and vital.
The opera house was used for any event that could take place in a
large, indoor space. What made the opera house popular was its
versatility and accessibility to the community. Nearly every newspaper
issue of the time contains references to recent, current or future events at
the opera house, indicating the central-and popular-role of these opera
houses in the local culture. Not everyone attended the meeting of
" democratic free silver followers" or the "farewell recital of Prof.
1
David Naylor and Joan Dillon, American Theaters: Performance Halls of the
Nineteenth Century (New York: John Wil ey, 1997), 11.
14 CON DEE
Fowler' s dancing class," but the opera house could provide something
for almost everyone. Therefore, while admitting that opera house is a
misnomer, substituting the word " theatre/l is just as misguided. Calling
these places "theatres" leads us down different-and invalid-metho-
dological, ideological and cultural paths. We should embrace the term
used by the peopl e who used these halls, with all its inherent ambiguities.
The goal here, then, is to place these opera houses not so much in
theatrical history as in cultural history. In Critical Theory and Perfor-
mance Joseph Roach defines culture as those "social structures and
practices in the rituals of both daily life and hallowed occasions ... those
tradition-bearing forms of organized behavior that articulate the limits and
the possibilities of collective human experience."
2
In Our Town, when
the "Artistic lady in a Box (a Club Woman Type)" asks, "Mr. Webb, is
there any culture or love of beauty in Grover's Corners?" Mr. Webb
replies, "Well, ma'am, there ain't much-not in the sense you mean,"
though he does mention "some girls that play the piano over at the High
School Commencement" and Handel's Largo-cultural events by Roach's
definition, and the kinds of events that might very well have taken place
at the Grover's Corners Opera House.
In this sense, the opera house is an object of material culture, and the
events, theatrical and non-theatrical, that take place in it are the texts of
popular culture. In order to understand the popularity of the opera house
in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century-arguably the heyday
of live popular performance in America-we should look beyond theater
and drama to these texts of popular culture occurring in the opera house.
The range of activities demonstrates that the opera house was the point
of intersection for "social structures, practices and rituals."
For example, commencements were an annual event at opera houses
prior to the construction of gymnasiums or auditoriums in high schools.
Before the advent of widely accessible college education, a high-school
commencement was a significant "coming of age," attended by parents,
relatives and friends, which might account for a significant portion of the
community.
Balls of various forms were held at the opera houses, including "the
Leap Year ball and supper given by the Ladies of Athens" in 1880,
3
and
"calico masques" offered in 1885 and 1886 by the Nelsonville Dancing
2
Janelle G. Reinelt and Joseph R. Roach, eds., Critical Theory and Performance
(Ann Arbor: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 9.
3
[n.a.}, [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 1 April 1880, p. 5.
Opera House and Culture in Appalachia 15
Association at Stuart's Opera House.
4
While there is certainly a
performative quality to a ball, especially one attended in costume-where
the partier is presenting him or herself to others-it is also participatory,
with each individual simultaneously spectator and performer.
Roller skating was common at opera houses with flat auditorium
floors. The Athens Opera House, located within the Athens City Hall,
probably had a flat floor, which may account for the 1885 announcement
that "a young people's roller skating club of large membership will hold
their first meeting at the City Hall next Tuesday evening on which
occasion new members of approved social standing will be received."
5
That people "of approved social standing" would frequent such a place
indicates the legitimated social status of the opera house.
Community clubs also used the opera houses for recitals and
presentations. An 1885 article in Athens declared, "The Young People's
Dancing Club of Athens will inaugurate the new year with a grand
terpsichorean entertainment at the City Hall on New Year's Eve."
6
The
grandiloquent term applied would seem to indicate that this was not
burlesque for the miners. "The Young Men's Gymnasium Association"
also gave a "public entertainment" at the Athens Opera House, with "the
proceeds to be devoted to the purchase of additional fixtures and
paraphernalia for the Association."
7
Thus while an admission fee was
charged, its charitable nature was made explicit.
The easy movement between sports and performance at the opera
house can be seen in the case of James J. Jeffries. He starred in Davy
Crockett in 1905, but his boxing fame was noted in his billing as
"Champion of the World," and a note in the program emphasizes Jeffries'
fighting talents: "NOTICE-At the conclusion of the last act Mr. Jeffries
will give a physical culture exhibition with Joseph Kenney." The
program also suggests that Jeffries was appropriating Davy Crockett's
mantle: "The skins, etc., used in this production were collected by Mr.
Jeffries during his hunting trips."
8
4
[n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 8 February 1885, p. 5; 18 February 1886, p.
5.
5
[n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 5 March 1885, p. 5.
6
[n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 24 December 1885, p. 5.
7
[n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 1 April 1886, p. 5.
8
Davy Crockett, playbill, 29 April 1905.
16
CON DEE
The same james j. Jeffries starred in an exhibition boxing match at
Stuart's Opera House, and special branch trains were scheduled to bring
in the capacity crowds. But an Athens women's club objected, so the
story is told, "because these two men were going to fight each other in
public whi le people paid to watch." They convinced the sheriff to cancel
the show, leaving an angry and sullen mob in Nelsonville, with trains not
scheduled to leave for hours. Needless to say, the men went to the
saloons, where they "just got drunker and meaner." A fight broke out
and grew into a "riot," leaving a man shot dead. According to our
storyteller, "No one would ever tell who did it, but those ladies in Athens
must have felt good about having prevented all that violence at the Opera
House. "
9
The opera house was also a site for contested political, racial, gender
and religious issues. Political parties held rallies, and local, state and
national politicians lectured at the opera house. For instance, an Athens
article of 1886 called for "Republicans of Athens and vicinity" to "reflect
their purpose at the polls next Tuesday by turning out in force at the
meeting in Athens City Hall."
10
In G !ouster in 1896, "The democratic
free silver followers of the valley held a meeting." Apparently there were
so many democratic free silver followers in the valley that "The opera
house was quickly filled," creating a need for "an overflow gathering,
which assembled at the platform near Hotel Bishop."
11
The black population of Athens County was about four percent in
1880,
12
and the opera house was a site for black community events. For
example, an 1879 edition of the Athens Messenger announced "The
Green Hill, colored, Lodge of Good Templars, of Athens, will hold a
FAIR at Athens City Hall."
13
African-Americans also used the opera
house to organize for political leverage, as shown in the 1879 announce-
ment in Athens for the first "colored convention of the county to discuss
9
Edna Oliver, qtd. in SpencerS. Steenrod, A History of Stuart's Opera House,
Nelsonville, Ohio (Nelsonville, OH: Nelsonville Tribune, 1978), 60-61.
10
(n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 28 October 1886, p. 5.
11
(n.a.], [n.t.], Glouster Press, 15 October 1896, p. 2.
12
Compendium of the Tenth Census 1880 (Washington, D.C.: Government
Print ing Office, 1882), 366.
13
[n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 13 November 1879, p. 5.
Opera House and Culture in Appalachia 17
what part, if any, they would have in the present somewhat mixed
political county affairs."
14
The convention concluded with
entire unanimity in the determination to work till the close of the
election as unceasingly and as cordially for the success of the
straight Rep ubi ican county ticket as for the State ticket.
15
Racial issues were more explosive when Spencer Steenrod, Sr., the last
manager of Stuart's Opera House, rented it for a lecture in the 1920s,
only to discover that it was actually a Ku Klux Klan rally. He canceled
the meeting, but on the night it was to have been held he had to walk
home through a gantlet of Klansmen.
16
In each case, the opera house
was at the center of these racially charged events.
The opera house was also a site of gender struggle over behavior and
politics. Women were perceived as improving the decorum of opera
house audiences, according to an 1886 article: "The very large number
of ladies that have been in attendance at the several political meetings"
at the opera house, "exerts a noticeable beneficial influence on the order
and civil bearings of such promiscuous assemblies."
17
Presumably the
male-only attendees had been misbehaving, and their conduct was
elevated by the presence of "the ladies." An 1894 lecture in Athens
under the auspices of the Women's Christian Temperance Union
addressed women's issues more directly with a "cogent and eloquent
plea for unmodified woman suffrage," which "evidently enlisted the
warm sympathy of her hearers."
18
Religious events, such as the one held in Athens in 1886, also took
place at the opera house: "The series of free lectures at the City Hall this
week on important religious topics by Rev. Mr. Parsons promise to prove
of highly interesting and instructive character and are worthy of the large
14
[n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 4 September 1879, p. 1.
15
Ibid., 5.
16
Mary A. Davis and Virginia M. May, compilers, Nelsonville in Pictures:
Celebrating the 150th Anniversary of Nelsonville, Ohio, 1838- 1988 (Nelsonville,
OH: Nelsonville Area Chamber of Commerce, 1988), 37.
17
[n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 21 October 1886, p. 5.
18
[n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 31 May 1894, p. 5.
18 CON DEE
audiences which they nightly draw."
19
The opera house may well have
been used to reach out to a wider audience than would normally attend
the church. On the other hand, no one seems to have questioned a
century ago that "important religious topics" were being addressed at city
hall, the location of .the Athens Opera House.
Lectures served to teach and to please, and may therefore have, at
least i n modern terms, a performative val ue. The 1881 newspaper in
Logan announced: "Opera House for one night only .. . Robert J.
Burdette of the Burlington Hawkeye in his famous lecture, entitled, 'Rise
and Fall of the Mustache."'
20
One can only wonder.
The combined effect of teaching and pleasing seems clearer in
Athens in 1894, when "the fourth and last entertainment of the Epworth
League" was announced, with "local talent" promising to be "varied and
interesting." The Epworth League was an ongoing lecture series, in
which entertainment was a significant factor, as an article from 1899
indicates:
The Athens lecture course had a most gratifying close in the
grand concert . .. which was enjoyably appreciated by the very
large and refined audience present. .. . Professor Dunkle is
already engaged in preparations to secure an even more
interesting and edifying program for next season's course, which
will include some of the best known platform attractions
procurable.
21
This combination of local talent and national names was typical of
the lecture series that were so popular in late nineteenth-century America.
Lewis Atherton quotes the editor of an Independence, Iowa, newspaper
in 1867: "To be without a lecture course is considered a reproach to any
progressive town of the West."
22
According to Atherton, "Lyceum series
were justified on the grounds of instruction, moral uplift, the fostering of
libraries, and entertainment, with entertainment becoming progressively
more and more dominant." While famous names toured the larger
opera houses, including William Jennings Bryan's appearance at Stuart's
19
[n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 2 December 1886, p. 5.
20
[n.a.], [n.t.], Logan Republican, 10 November 1881, p. 3.
21
[n.a.], [n.t.], Athens Messenger, 5 April 1894, p. 5.
22
Lewis Atherton, Main Street on the Middle Border (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1954), 140-41.
Opera House and Culture in Appalachia 19
Opera House in Nelsonville, "Little towns ... had to be content with less
expensive performers who discussed the need for prohibition, offered
feats of magic with their dialogue, or told of travels in foreign lands."
23
The location and architecture of the opera house further indicates its
paramount place in local culture. The opera house was commonly built
on the central town square in a prominent, monumental building. Many
were in buildings for fraternal organizations or town halls, while others
were privately owned. The communities wanted permanent sites of
entertainment, and local organizations, whether business, governmental,
civic or fraternal, answered the call (with, of course, the owner profiting
from the opera house).
Several opera houses in Appalachian Ohio are examples of what
Marvin Carlson refers to in Places of Performance as "facade theatres":
a single element in the facade streetscape of the modern city.
The modern commercial block, comprising a row of contiguous
facades, has been developed to serve the needs of commerce.
24
These facade theatres had a commercial basis, as Carlson make clear:
The most valuable part of the structure was the ground-floor
facade, where the store made its critical contact with potential
customers and attempted to attract them inside. The desirability
of this commercial frontage meant that the establishments that
could afford to do so took up as much ground-floor frontage as
"bl 25
pOSSI e ...
This commercial basis explains why most of these opera houses were on
the second floor. The ground floor, which was most visible and
accessible to passersby, contained storefronts. The opera house, for
which people would more likely plan ahead, was placed on the less
accessible second floor. In the fraternal buildings, the top floor was
reserved for the organization's meeting rooms, with the two lower floors
providing the income to make the building self-supporting.
Opera houses in town halls are examples of Carlson's "urban hub"
theatres, which are characterized by "physical isolation ... multiple
23
Atherton, 141.
2
"' Marvin Carlson, Places of Performance: The Semiotics of Theatre Architecture
(Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1989), 105.
25
Carlson, 105-107.
20 CON DEE
vistas that made these public monuments both landmarks and nodes."
26
In that sense, these opera houses are more comparable to "the theatre as
a sort of public monument," which was the case with the public theatres
of Greece and Rome that "were major civic monuments, which held
prominent positions in the urban text."
27
Whether facade or hub, the location indicates the central, civic
nature of the opera houses in Appalachian culture. The opera house is
in the center of town, not across the river, outside city limits, with the
bear- and bull-baiting arenas and the brothels.
* * *
With the interest in historic preservation and community develop-
ment in the 1980s and 1990s, these opera houses have been rediscov-
ered. Many have been restored, and plans are underway for others. As
restoration efforts gain momentum, we will be forced to examine the role
the opera house can play in the future. The answer is to be found in past.
The opera house was never used exclusively for theatrical performance.
It was a part of the fabric of the community, and was used for anything
and everything that a large, indoor space could accommodate. The key
to saving these treasures, then, is for the community once more to have
a stake in the building. If the opera house can once more present events
that the community deems important, the opera house will survive.
26
Carlson, 79.
27
Carlson, 68.
journal of American Drama and Theatre 10 (Fall 1998)
Paradox Now
MIKE RIGGS
When two young artists named Judith Malina and Julian Beck
committed their lives to each other and to a new form of theater, their
goal was to create an artistic revolution. The Living Theater's perfor-
mance techhique and dramatic ethic, centered around honesty and
idealism, has never been duplicated. The company's greatest endeavor,
a project titled Paradise Now that debuted in Avignon and made its way
through Europe and the United States during a two-year tour, represented
a new step for the company. In Paradise Now, Malina and Beck applied
their idealism not only to art, but to the world at large. Though the piece
never initiated the global revolution that it was meant to spur, it
established a new standard for the avant-garde theater. Moreover, it
iII um i nated the frustrating paradox of a theater company that was
inexorably bound up in the societal norms that it was determined to
abolish. Although Paradise Now was in many respects a successful
performative venture, it ultimately failed to accomplish its objective
because its performers were not sufficiently willing to immerse them-
selves in the radical new performance technique that they were attempt-
ing to define.
The Living Theater was an ideal ist group, and to understand the
company it is absolutely imperative that one comprehend the extent of
this idealism. ' As. Judith Malina once explained it, "I demand every-
thing-total love, an end to all forms of violence and cruelty such as
money, hunger, people doing work they hate .. . . We can have
tractors and food and joy. I demand it now!"
1
Mal ina's idealism
solidified in 1951 when she and Beck started the Living Theater with a
commitment to truthful art (and not to the radical pol itics for which the
company is remembered). Both Beck and Malina were disillusioned with
the conventional theater of the time, which was driven by commerce
and, they believed, employed outdated acting styles. One of the primary
goals of the Living Theater was to create a new relationship between
1
Elenore Lester, "The Living Theatre Presents: Revolution! Joy! Protest! Etc.!"
New York Times Magazine, 13 October 1968, p. 53.
22
RIGGS
actor and character. As Pierre Biner states in his The Living Theater, A
History Without Myths:
Instead of saying, as a traditional actor, " I am the embodiment
of Richard Ill," or as a Brechtian actor: "I am Mother Courage,
but I'm also Helen Weigel playing Courage," the actor in the
Living Theater says: "I am Julian Beck and I play Julian Beck."
2
In order to keep its art as free from commerce as possible, the
company carefully avoided any commitment to finance. Tickets were
sold on a pay-what-you-can basis only, and the minimal funds required
to produce their pieces came from Julian's work designing store window
displays and Judith's secretarial work (and occasional appearances on
The Coldbergs) . The Becks' artistic utopia was initially easy to maintain,
as all performances took place in their West End apartment. However,
when the company began to perform at the Cherry Lane Theater, they
were forced to confront the commercial and political worlds they had
tried to avoid. The New York fire department shut down their production
of Alfred Jarry's Ubu Roi at the Cherry Lane, ostensibly for fire code
violations. Malina, however, believes to this day that this was simply a
convenient way to attack a performance that many considered
"shocki ng."
3
The Living Theater briefly owned its own space at Sixth Avenue and
14th Street, but the building was confiscated by the IRS for non-payment
of taxes. Determined not to let this detail interfere with the final
performances of their running production, The Brig, the Living Theater
led its audience over rooftops and into the padlocked building through
a second-story window. Many members of the company refused to come
out of the building after the performance, and the "play-in" soon
received wide attention. Picketers marched outside while friends sent
baskets of food up to the artists. Drama critic Richard Schechner, not one
to miss the opportunity for an interview, rolled up a large sheet of paper
and shouted his questions to Judith, who was leaning out of a window.
4
2
Pierre Siner, The Living Theater: A History Without Myths, Robert Meister,
trans. (Chicago: Discus/Avon, 1973), 170.
3
Lester, 88 .
.. John Tytell , The Living Theater: Art, Exile and Outrage (New York: Grove,
1995), 188; and Michael Smith, "The Living Theater at Cooper Union: A Symposium
with William Coco, jack Gelber, Karen Malpede, Richard Schechner, and Michael
Smith," TOR 31:3 (Fall 1987): 116.
Paradox Now 23
The Becks and their followers have always suspected that the primary
motivation of this seizure was not to collect unpaid taxes, but to harass
the aggressively anarchist-pacifist Living Theater. One biographer
recounts an incident during the seizure when IRS agents would not even
unlock Judith's dressing room long enough for her to get a tampon.
5
More importantly, there was never more than a half-hearted effort to raise
the outstanding money at auction: the theater's assets fetched only $267.
Furthermore, at the trial, the jury sentenced both Judith and Julian to
prison terms for various crimes relating to obstruction of justice, but the
issue of unpaid taxes was never addressed.
6
Clearly, the unpaid taxes
were simply a convenient reason to attack this "dangerous" company.
The Becks' trial was almost as effective as their plays at demonstrat-
ing their social position. The colorfully dressed, barefoot, long-haired
company members and the several identical gray suits seated opposite
them illustrated the different worlds from which the two sides ap-
proached the issue. The company members represented themselves
using humanistic arguments rather than legal ones, reading letters from
Tennessee Williams and Edward Albee in which the playwrights
emphasized the quality of the Living Theater's work.
7
When one
company member was arrested for making a disturbance in court, the
other members of the group followed the police officers outside and sat
in a circle around the cruiser in which the actor had been confined. The
judge had to send a note asking the police to release their prisoner so that
the trial could continue.
8
At the end of the memorable trial, as he was
sentencing Beck to sixty days in prison and Malina to thirty, Judge
Edmund L. Palmier remarked,
You have made so many pathetic mistakes, and I think you are
misguided but sincere people who have been unable to adjust
to living in a complex society where your artistic life has come
into conflict with such things as tax laws.
9
5
Siner, 75.
6
Renfreu Neff, The Living Theater/USA (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1970), 9-10.
7
Lester, 96.
8
Ibid., 100.
9
lbid.
24 RIGGS
The Becks' sentence was postponed long enough for the company to
travel to London, where the European debut of The Brig was scheduled.
Beck and Malina returned to the United States before the end of the tour
to serve their sentences, but they remained involved in the company:
they directed and staged a production of Jean Genet's The Maids by mail
during their prison term.
10
In 1965, shortly after finishing their sentences, the leaders rejoined
the troupe in Europe, where they remained in self-imposed exile for three
years. The European public, they had found, were much more receptive
of their work than American audiences, and though their unconventional,
nomadic lifestyle was often questioned, they encountered no large-scale
government resistance to their efforts as they had in the United States.
Though the company had little money-whatever they could earn was
used to feed and clothe the family of some thirty actors and nine
babies-they had many friends. Helen Weigel, Bertolt Brecht's widow,
once met the company in East Berlin with new shoes for all of them,
11
and the sight of the bedraggled but vibrant company inspired spontane-
ous charity from many who recognized them as members of the counter-
cultural movement. The same sight struck fear into the hearts of
producers, though, and the company was occasionally asked to pack up
and move along.
The Living Theater remained abroad until 1968, when Hair producer
Michael Butler organized a committee to raise money for the company's
return to the United States.
12
Butler's committee raised $18,000 from
New York philanthropists and smaller donors, and Malina and Beck
agreed to return with a mixture of anxiety and relief. "Of course we are
apprehensive," Beck remarked at the time,
. .. but I think the time is right. The sense of insurrection is rife
in America and the need to curb violence is stronger than it ever
was. Our "message," if you want to call it that, is both revolu-
tionary and nonviolent and very much part of what is happening
in America at the moment.
13
'
0
Neff, 11.
" Lester, 105.
12
Sam Zolotow, "Return Promised by Living Theater," New York Times, 21 June
1968, p, 49(F).
13
Charles Marowitz, "You Can Go Home Again?/' New York Times, 8
September 1968, p. l(F).
Paradox Now 25
Paradise Now is as dissimilar to other plays as the Living Theater was
to other companies. In Pierre Biner's words, "the methods of literary
expression, poorly enough suited to traditional theater, are not even
sufficient to describe the actual action of Paradise Now, let alone the total
experience of the play."
14
Biner's comment captures the unique
challenge of analyzing a work whose greatest strength is in its spontane-
ous supertext-in the fleeting moments of performative euphoria in which
a connection has been made between two people. Indeed, these
moments are the goal of the play. Parpdise Now is an experience of
self-awakening in the tradition of yoga. It is founded on the principle of
free theater, in which the audience is a part of the action and is encour-
aged to react to the performance however they are moved to do so. Most
importantly, it is an expression of anarchy. The Living Theater's anarchy
arises not out of dissatisfaction with government per se, but out of the
lamentation that human beings are so lacking in self-awareness that
police structures and governments are necessary.
The play is a voyage from the many to the one and from the one
to the many. It is a spiritual voyage and a political voyage. It is
a voyage for the actors and the spectators. It begins in the
present and moves into the future and returns to the present.
The plot is the revolution.
15
This voyage follows a map which is structured like a ladder. Each of the
eight rungs on the ladder begins with a Rite, which is followed by a
Vision and then climaxes with an Action. The.three parts together fulfill
an aspect of the revolution. The Rites are, in Malina and Beck's words,
"political/spiritual rituals/ceremonies which culminate with a flashout."
16
The Rites are expressions of dissatisfaction, and the flashout is tantamount
to a scream that results from pent-up frustrations. The flashout involves
sound, movement, facial expression, and physical interaction with the
audience. The Visions, on the other hand, are cerebral experiences of
images. While a Rite is initiated by the participants (actors and, in a
successful show, spectators) in order to create a flashout, the Vision
simply occurs to the participants on its own. These two experiences
14
Biner, 168.
15
Judith Malina and Julian Beck, eds., Paradise Now: Coflective Creation of the
Living Theater (New York: Random House, 1971), 5.
16
lbid.
26 RIGGS
merge to create the Action that concludes the rung. Beck and Malina
describe the Action as "an enactment of political conditions ... specified
as taking place in a particular city but lead[ing] to a revolution here and
now."
17
The Action is introduced by the actors, but ideally it is per-
formed by the spectators with only minimal assistance from the actors.
At each rung is a stumbling block which is a part of the overall
obstacle, defined by Malina and Beck as "resistance of revolutionary
change."
18
This stumbling block is identified so that it may be under-
stood. Once it is understood, the force that can overcome it is identified.
These two forces are the Confrontation. There is a Confrontation at each
rung, and the imperative obj ect of the play is for the revolutionary
element to prevai I at each level.
Beck' s expertise as a lighting designer figures into his concept of
Paradise Now. Each rung has its own color, progressing from darkness
into light. Actors are lit in the color of the rung, with some white. l ight
added to convey a sense of urgency. When the action begins, the
audience is l it in white, both to help them realize that it is their turn to
perform and to suggest purity.
Several sources of inspiration are used to help the performers convey
this problematic concept of revolution. Passages from the I Ching-
writings of ancient Chinese sages-are included with the text of each Rite,
Vision, and Action. Paradise Now was not written down until well after
its fiftieth performance, but these writings were collected and used from
the beginning. The ladder structure of Paradise Now is borrowed
primarily from Martin Buber' s concept of the Hasidic rungs.
19
This model
of life suggests that humans live on the rungs of a ladder that connects
heaven and earth. It is the goal of the devout person to climb this ladder
steadi ly throughout life, progressing toward godliness. In the Living
Theater's structure, Buber's model of godliness is redefined as an elevated
spiritual state in which nonviolent revolution is possible. The rungs of
the Living Theater's ladder are steps toward this goal.
An audience member's progress through the rungs of the play is
intended to follow the pattern of traditional yoga. As it originated, yoga
was a physical and spiritual attempt to awaken several centers of
concentration called chakras, located along the spine. Coming to
understand each chakra allows the yogi to understand the world fully.
The activating force for the chakras is personified i n a serpent named
17
Ibid.
18
lbid., 7.
19
1bid., 9.
Paradox Now 27
Kundalini, who rests at the base of the spine" Successful yoga coaxes
Kundalini through the chakras until she reaches the crown of the head,
where supreme bliss is achieved. After this bliss, Kundalini returns to her
resting place, and the yogi is enlightened with a consciousness that
allows him or her to understand-and therefore change-the world.
20
Finally, the model of the Living Theater's ladder is influenced by the
Kabbalah. According to this text, there are ten sefiroth, or emanations,
of the Holy One, each of which was projected onto the figure of a
creature called Adam Kadmon. This creature was the image in which the
Holy One created Man. With some modification, the rungs of Paradise
Now correspond to parts or areas of the body, just as the ten sefiroth
were assigned to parts of Adam's figure.
21
Paradise Now was never an extravagant, entertainment-oriented
production. With a running time of four and a half hours without
intermission, many critics found it difficult to sit through. Though it was
often decried as amateurish, elitist, or both, the physical discomfort of the
experience was central to the success of the play. The audience must
understand the inadequacy of their current situation and the necessity of
revolution. It was always central to the Living Theater's philosophy that
the audience was not the privileged class that it usually is, but is rather a
body of participants in a live event. The success of each performance
was determined by the actors' sincerity in conveying the impression that
this was not simply a performance, but a real event. As Biner puts it,
An actual event, by virtue of its very reality, can make a much
deeper impression on the brain than a symbolical theatrical
event. A murder on the stage does not have the impact of an
accident in the street. In the latter instance, something real has
happened . ... Something real also happens in ... Paradise
Now, which [is] everything but reassuring. The barrier separat-
ing stage from audience has disappeared to allow the spectator
a truer balance.
22
Paradise Now was first performed at the Festival d'Avignon on 24
July 1968, to mixed reception. Though many audience members were
moved and impressed, jean Vilar, the chairman of the festival, was not.
He accused the company of mediocrity and asked them to remove
20
Ibid., 10-11 .
21
Ibid., 11.
22
Biner, 169.
28
RIGGS
Paradise Now from the festival because it was not up to the standards of
the event. Avignon mayor Henri Duffault agreed with Vi lar, and thanks
to his influence Le Living (as they were known in Europe) left Avignon,
canceling the remaining sixteen performances of Paradise Now and
aborting the run of their Antigone, which had also played at the festival
to very positive reviews.
23
Paris student groups accused Vilar, an
avowed liberal, of being "bourgeois," and judith Malina, aware of his
pride in his leftist politics, declared that Vilar simply didn't have enough
of an open mind to appreciate the avant garde.
24
After being asked to leave Avignon, Le Living were invited to
Geneva, where they performed at the Sports Pavi I ion on 21 August 1968.
Most of the audience of 1,500 left, saying the performance was boring,
and the critics agreed.
25
Paradise Now would prove much more
successful in smaller environments, where the audience was large
enough to have a meaningful collective experience, but small enough
that the connection between performer and spectator was not lost.
After Michael Butler's committee brought the company back to the
United States in September of 1968, the Living Theater began a national
tour of Paradise Now. The first stop was at the Yale University Theater
on 27 September. The performance was quite effective by all accounts,
and in the final Action when the company led its largely naked audience
(they had responded well to the piece) into the streets of New Haven,
they maintained a large following. Sadly, the company was soon
reminded of why it had fled to Europe: Beck, Malina, and eight other
people including five audience members were arrested on charges
ranging from indecent exposure to obstruction of justice. Bystanders,
realizing the irony that this was the beloved company's first performance
after returning to the country, sang "America the Beautiful" as their
heroes were led away. Robert Brustein, Dean of the Yale School of
Drama, told reporters that "police misunderstood the significance of the
event," though he personally did not enjoy the show. Police chief James
F. Ahern defended his actions, saying that "as far as we're concerned, art
stops at the door of the theater, and then we apply community
23
Howard Taubman, "The Living Theater and Avignon in Schism over New
Production," New York Times, 29 July 1968, p. 27(F).
24
Lester, 92.
25
[n.a.], "Julian Beck is Lost on Swiss," New York Times, 22 August 1968, p.
47(F).
Paradox Now 29
standards."
26
The dean and police agreed that the remammg two
performances, which were already sold out, could take place, but that
they would not end in leading the audience into the street. In an
uncharacteristic concession to authority, the company complied with this
agreement, and in their trial of 4 October, they were acquitted of all but
a few minor charges, all of which were punishable by small fines.
27
Again bowing to authority, the Living Theater promised New York
police ahead of time that they would not lead their audience into the
street after their 14 October show at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.
Reviewer Clive Barnes found that the piece had "an almost mystical
sense of tedium" (a reaction which might well have delighted the
company). One of the more remarkable aspects of this performance was
the behavior of drama critic Richard Schechner, who, during the first Rite
when the performers lamented that they were not allowed to take off
their clothes, stripped completely in his seat.
28
The most important performance of Paradise Now took place at the
Berkeley Community Theater on 20 February 1969. At first glance, the
Berkeley political climate appeared to be the perfect setting for Paradise
Now's revolutionary message. The University of California at Berkeley
campus had been near its flash point for quite a while, having had riots
off and on for the previous four years. There had, in fact, been a riot on
the day of the performance. Students said that it began when a police
officer clubbed a girl who had thrown a flower at him; the police claimed
the melee was started by students who stoned an entire police squad.
However it began, it quickly escalated to bottle and rock throwing, tear
gas, auto wrecking, and such general pandemonium that then-governor
Ronald Reagan declared a state of emergency on campus.
29
Though the revolutionary message of Paradise Now was not
dissimilar to the sentiments of many Berkeley students, the audience was
in no mood for the Living Theater's performance. For the Berkeley
audience had at their disposal a litmus test of the performers' sincerity
that other audiences could never have used: at the riot earlier in the day,
26
William Borders, "Indecent Exposure Charged to Becks, " New York Times, 28
September 1968, p. 27.
27
Ibid.
28
Clive Barnes, " Stage: Living Theater's Paradise Now a Collective Creation, "
New York Times, 15 October 1968, p. 39(F) .
29
Athenaide Dallet, ' Protest in the Playhouse: Two Twentieth-Century Audience
Riots, " New Theatre Quarterly 12 (November 1996): 330.
30
RIGGS
only three of the company members showed up to put their pacifism into
action. One of those three, presumably disi llusioned by the inabilityof
pacifist rhetoric to calm the justifiably furious students, boycotted the
company for the rest of the tour as a result. The message of the play
began to break down during the first Rite, the Rite of Guerrilla Theater.
This Rite centers around a few observations such as "I'm not allowed to
take off my clothes" and "I ' m not allowed to smoke marijuana,"
observations that were laughable in a community where pot was sold
openly on the streets and nudity was a way of life.
30
The breaking point, though, came during the first Action, which
includes the line "Be the students at Columbia." The l ine, meant to
encourage the audience to act on their frustrations, refers to the Columbia
riots of April 1968, which paled in comparison to the riots that had taken
place on the Berkeley campus for the past four years. Students began to
chant "Bullshit! Bullshit!" in response to the Columbia l ine, and the rest
of the performance was lost in a sea of discontented students and
confused onlookers. Most of the audience left, and those who remained
did so only to obstruct the performance. Beck halted the performance at
the fifth rung, ostensibly because the theater was supposed to be vacated
by midnight; however, considering his previous disregard for such
regulat ions, he was clearly admitt ing defeat. Reviewer jeanne Miller
wrote the next day that "many of the youngsters muttered darkly about
getting their money back on grounds that the whole scene is a gigantic
hoax-anarchists out to fleece the gullible of money they want
abolished."
31
The Berkeley incident illustrates the inherent paradox of Paradise
Now. The play is based on the concept of "free theater," a
mini-revolution in theatrical norms that is articulated in the first Vision:
Free theater. The theater is yours. Act. Speak. Do whatever
you want.
Free theater. Feel free. You, the public, can choose your role
and act it out ...
Free theater. In which the actors and the public can do what
ever they l ike.
32
30
Ibid.
31
Jeanne Miller, "Play and Clothes Fail to Come Off," San Francisco Examiner,
21 February 1969, p. 8(F).
32
Malina and Beck, 23.
Paradox Now 31
At performances such as the New Haven show, where the audience
embraced the message of the play, the "free theater" was clearly
successfu I. But when the Berkeley students resisted-chanting "bu I Ish it"
to the Columbia line, for instance-the company did not allow the
audience to take the performance in a new direction because it deviated
from the established plot: progression through the rungs.
33
Clearly, the
Living Theater is dissatisfied with the form of "freedom" created by
governments-a freedom in which one cannot take off ones clothes or
travel without a passport. The purpose of the first rung of the play is to
establish the Natural Man who is above these constraints. They
established similar restrictions, though, on the freedom of the audience
in free theater, and they were as unreceptive to those who would not be
bound by these r.estrictions as the New Haven police had been to those
who took off their clothes. At its core, then, Paradise Now is like
conventional theater in that success depends on the spectators'
willingness to allow the actors to set the rules.
The success of Paradise Now depended each night upon this
unspoken contract between audience and performers, even disguised as
it was behind the novelty of the avant-garde. The New Haven and
Brooklyn audiences gladly followed the lead of the performers, and the
result was a theatrical triumph. It is one of the most basic tenets of
dramatic art that there are performers and spectators, and that the
performers have some sort of a plan for the dramatic event. The preface
to the text of Paradise Now states unequivocally that the goal of the
performance is to lead the actors and spectators to a state of being in
which non-violent revolutionary action is possible. The Living Theater
invited its audience to participate in a new form of highly interactive
theater, and for those critics who forget that idealism is the key to the
company's philosophy, it is easy to accuse them of foolishness for
expecting this new art form always to succeed. The Living Theater tried
to effect change using a means for which the world was not ready. Their
art was not a mirror held up to the world; it was a window into a different
world. When it succeeded, it achieved a sublime degree of reality that
no other company has brought to the stage. When it failed, though, it
exposed avant-garde art's inability to escape the confining traditions of its
past or to transcend the limits imposed by its audience's expectations.
33
Dallett, 331.
journal of American Drama and Theatre 10 (Fall 1998)
Love in Black and White:
Miscegenation on the Stage
GLENDA E. GILL
Since slavery, Americans have been keenly aware of a considerable
degree of racial intermingling. Slaves were not permitted to marry, a law
that made it more convenient for white slave masters to have conjugal
visits with black slave women.
In the twentieth century, the parameters of black and white romantic
relationships have been set by the broader society that has, as a whole,
not fully accepted African-American and Caucasian men and women
loving one another. While there have been some exceptions, many of
the relationships that have succeeded have done so because of secrecy
or a very low profile. Those who engage in romantic relationships that
cross racial barriers face many hazards: estrangement from parents and
family members and ridicule from neighbors and community. Friends
object, warn, or inquire excessively, rather than offering support.
Children of interracial unions often suffer, although here, too, there are
exceptions.
The theatre has been more cautious than courageous in showing
interracial love affairs on the stage, frequently dramatizing them as sordid
and tragic. Among the twentieth-century plays that portray miscegena-
tion, the more controversial have been Edward Sheldon's The Nigger
(1909), Eugene O'Neill's All Cod's Chillun Cot Wings (1924), Langston
Hughes's Mulatto (1935), Lillian Smith's Strange Fruit (1944), James Gow
and Arnaud d'Usseau's Deep Are the Roots (1945), Alice Childress's
Wedding Band (1966), and Howard Sackler's The Great White Hope in
1967. ' .
The greatest fear Of all in the racial divide seems to be the sexual one.
The theatre pandered to this sexual fear. Producer Martin Jones, for
example, sensationalized Langston Hughes's 1935 Mulatto, thereby
ensuring box office success. More than one playwright had a woman in
a stage love affair go mad. Black men were lynched. White fathers
denied their mulatto children. Few interracial stage love affairs chroni-
cled the middle- and upper-classes. It is almost as if love across racial
Miscegenation on the Stage 33
lines is perceived of as a lower-class or working-class neurosis. Genuine
love is rarely shown.
Resentment of interracial love is as strong among many African-
Americans as it is among Caucasians, although, again, a number of black
and white families have also accepted their children's choices of mates
of a different race. Black resentment may stem from the remembrance of
the sexual abuse of black women by white men in slavery. It may also
stem from the resentment many black women have about the dire
shortage of black men. Some reports i ndicate that there are as few as
thirty-five eligible black men for every one hundred black women. Men
of color have become an endangered species due to wars, i ncarceration,
and infant mortality rates for black male chil dren.
Miscegenation laws prevailed in many southern states until well past
the mid twentieth century. In Alabama, for example, mixed marriage was
a felony punishable by a prison sentence of two to seven years; Missis-
sippi had a similar statute, and the first interracial marriage there in over
one hundred years did not occur until 1970, and then only when the
couple went to federal courts after being turned down in state courts.
1
History has recorded sustained and successful interracial marriages.
Frederi ck Douglass's second wife was white. Other couples included
Lena Horne and Lennie Hayton, Harry and Julie Belafonte, Sidney Poitier
and Joanna Shimkus, Pearl Bailey and Louis Bellson. From a distance the
marriages have appeared successful, and they have certainly been long
lasting.
The theatre has reflected American society's hostility toward
interracial marriage. Interestingly, the vast majority of playwrights whose
works about miscegenation have been produced have been white males:
Jean-Paul Sartre, James Gow and Arnaud d'Usseau, Eugene O'Neill ,
Howard Sackler, Edward Sheldon, and Charles G. MacArthur. Lil l ian
Smith, author of Strange Fruit, was a southern white female. Black
playwrights have a very different vantage point and seem much more
bitter than Caucasians. Alice Childress, the fair-skinned playwright of
Wedding Band, was a woman of color. Langston Hughes, a black male
playwright of mixed heritage, authored the controversial Mulatto.
One of the earliest twentieth-century plays on miscegenation
appeared in 1909: The Nigger by Edward Sheldon. Thomas D. Pawley
describes it as "one of the most famous plays of the era. " He summa-
rizes its plot as follows:
1
Lester j . Keyser and Andre H. Ruszkowski, The Cinema of Sidney Poitier: The
Black a n ~ s Changing Role on the American Screen (San Diego: A. S. Barnes, 1980),
114.
34
This is a melodrama and has improbabilities. Governor Morrow
is a Negro and does not know it. Under the law, a Negro cannot
serve as governor. He's lived white all his life. Racial intermar-
riage comes up again and again. Sheldon resolves the problem
by letting the governor divorce his white wife-the aristocratic
man gives up everything.
2
GILL
Glenn Hughes believes that The Nigger, set in the Reconstruction Period,
was "a melodramatic and yet honest treatment of the color problem in
the South. "
3
Eugene O'Neill 's 1924 drama, All Cod's Chillun Cot Wings was the
next interracial drama in America. Legend has it that Paul Robeson had
to kiss the hand, rather than the lips, of his white co-star on stage.
Audiences threatened to tear down MacDougal Street on which the
Provincetown Playhouse stood, if Robeson, as Jim, kissed Ella on the
mouth. Opening night came. Robeson kissed the woman only on the
hand, and the following day, the Hearst newspapers reported,
"MacDougal Street still stands." Mary Blair played Ella. According to
Susan Robeson, Paul Robeson's granddaughter:
The production became enveloped in raging controversy. In the
play's final scene, Jim-a Black lawyer played by Paul-is kissed
by his wife, a white woman. . . . Announcement of this
production was greeted with widespread hysteria. Ku Klux Klan
death threats came from as far away as Georgia and as nearby as
Long Island. The Hearst newspaper chain initiated a vicious
campaign against the play, and the mayor of New York publicly
proclaimed his opposition to the production.
4
About the interracial themes of O'Neill's play, Pawley stated:
The plot of All Cod's Chillun Cot Wings clearly postulates that
intermarriage between blacks and whites will not succeed
because of the social climate in the United States. Leaving the
2
Thomas D. Pawley, Lecture, "Black Man in American Drama," University of
Iowa, 10 February, 1976.
3
Glenn Hughes, A History of the American Theatre, 7 700-1950 (london:
Samuel French, 1951), 349.
4
Susan Robeson, The Whole World In His Hands (Secaucus, NJ: The Citadel
Press, 1981 ), 34.
Miscegenation on the Stage
country to escape racial intolerance and societal pressures will
alleviate the problem only temporarily because of the feelings of
guilt it engenders. The consequences are insanity, isolation and
alienation from family and friends, unreasonable fear, jealousy
and marital conflicts which reduce the marriage to a deadly
game. One may further extrapolate that a black male who seeks
to make his marriage a success will be emasculated in the
attempt.
5
35
Ella certainly seems to have emasculated Jim who gets down on his
knees, imploring her to just let him be around. He has no expectation
that she would ever love him. He further tolerates her calling him a
nigger, although she is supposed to have reached a state of insanity when
she does so.
Edith Isaacs, editor of Theatre Arts Monthly and a strong supporter of
blacks in the arts, gives another account of the controversy surrounding
the play:
In fact the thunder did not wait for the production of the play.
Several months earlier the American Mercury published the
script. ... It told the story of a young Negro intellectual who
marries a white woman and with her fights an unrelenting fight
against racial antagonism. News stories, headlines, and editori-
als were used to stimulate public disapproval and even to secure
police protection against the performance ....
O'Neill ripped the foundation away from the theme of the drama
when he permitted the girl . . . to go mad under the strain of
public prejudice. This changed the emphasis at once from the
problem of whether happiness could be achieved in our present
society by racial intermarriage, to the problem of how an
intelligent man, already under social pressure, could live with a
wife who was insane, however much he loved her.
6
The intelligence of the man is shown strangely by O'Neill who has his
intellectual speak in dialect, a practice which supports the belief of many
5
Thomas D. Pawley, "Eugene O'Neill and American Race Relations," Journal
of American Drama and Theatre 9, 1 (Winter 1997): 81.
6
Edith J. R. Isaacs, The Negro in the American Theatre (New York: Theatre Arts,
1947), 78.
36
GILL
African-Americans that whites have limited contact with black people.
Robeson himself held a law degree from Columbia University.
Such stereotyping on the stage may have helped create an urgency
many states claimed in shaping miscegenation laws. Famous is the 1967
case of Loving vs. Virginia, a suit that virtually nullified the anti-miscege-
nation laws. The case concerned a black woman and a white man who
resided in Virginia, but married in Washington, D. C. Virginia convicted
the couple of violating its laws against intermarriage. The Lovings. were
told that they could not live in Virginia for twenty-five years. They
appealed, first to the Virginia courts, which rejected the appeal, then to
the U.S. Supreme Court which upheld it and ruled the Virginia law
unconstitutional.
Theodore G. Bilbo, senator from Mississippi , and probably represen-
tative of many, said, "We have already determined that the Negro race
is physically, mentally, and morally inferior to the white race."
7
He
further warned that intermarriage was deadly because the mixing of the
races would defile white purity-blacks such as W. E. B. DuBois who
could claim to be cultured should thank God for the drop of white blood
which made it possible.
Fueling anti-miscegenation laws was white America's fear of the
supposed virility of the black male. William Wiggins, Jr. reports Roi
Ottley's findings that after Jack Johnson, the heavyweight champion of the
world, married a white woman, bills against interracial marriage were
introduced in "Wisconsin, Iowa, Kansas, Colorado, Minnesota, New
Jersey, New York and Michigan. Bills were brought before Congress with
penalties ranging from imprisonment to castration."
8
The image of the
black man as a brute has long been pervasive.
Far too few white family members, friends and community see the
black member of an interracial couple as moral , worthy and dignified.
The image of the black woman as slut or mammy has often prevailed
with one early exception. In 1926, David Belasco put on Lulu Belle, by
Charles G. MacArthur and Edward Sheldon. It broke new ground. The
female character, loosely based on a famous black star who had gone to
Paris in the 1920s, was very daring, extremely well-dressed, and traveled
internationally. The stars were white-Lenore Ulrich as "the Negro
harlot" and Henry Hull .as "the Negro barber." Lulu wins a young
7
Theodore G. Bilbo, Take Your Choice: Separation or Mongrelization
(Poplarville, MS: Dream House Publishing Company, 1947), 198.
8
William H. Wiggins, Jr. "Jack Johnson as Bad Nigger: The Folklore of His Life,"
Contemporary Black Thought , ed. Robert Chrisman and Nathan Hare (Indianapolis:
The Bobbs Merrill Company, 1973), 58.
Miscegenation on the Stage 37
married man, George, of whom she tires. She flirts with a prize fighter
and runs off to Paris with a viscount. George, bent on revenge and
released from jail, finds her and kills her in her bed. Hubert H. Harrison
praises Lulu Belle for its departure from the conventional treatment of
black characters on stage:
In Lulu Belle, Mr. Belasco has done something for American
drama which most critics-especially those "on our side of the
street" have managed somehow to miss. The play itself is a slice
of Negro life, given without malice and sentimentality .. . . But
its chief and abiding significance I ies in the fact that it presents,
on a large scale for the first time, a new type of realism, devoid
of the conventional stereotypes which have so long done duty
. . . on the American stage. Heretofore, the American playgoer
has had his esthetic perceptions restricted to the narrow choice
between .. . the black buffoon . . . and . .. the "problem"
Negro who serves occasionally as an awful example of the social
horrors of miscegenation. . . . In this respect the Belasco
production breaks new ground.
9
In 1935, Langston Hughes's Mulatto caused w ide consternation on
Broadway. It told of the cohabitation of Cora, a black woman, and the
white Colonel Tom Norwood who have five children out of wedlock.
The play focuses on the relationship between Robert, one of the mulatto
"yard children," and his white father. Norwood denies his son who is
brash, bold and daring, even to one painful scene where the son grabs his
hand before white dinner guests, calling him Poppa, just as Cora
announces that dinner is ready. The play ends as the rejected son kills
his white father-the only way he can express his pain. A white posse,
predictably, comes for Robert, and he commits suicide. As the play nears
the end, Cora, distraught, loses her mind, saying to the dead Colonel
Tom:
And de years went by. And I was always ready for you when
you come to me in de night. And we had them chilluns, your
chilluns and mine, Tom Norwood, all of 'em! .. . Bert with your
eyes and your ways and your. temper, and mighty nigh your
color ... and he wanted to call you "papa," and I tried to teach
him no, but he did it anyhow and you beat him, Colonel
9
Hubert H. Harrison, "The Significance of Lulu Belle, " Opportunity Uuly 1926):
228.
38
Thomas Norwood . . .. After you beat that chile, then you died,
Colonel Norwood. You died here in this house, and you been
I iving dead a long time.
10
GILL
White reaction was predictable. Citizens of Cedartown, Georgia,
filed a lawsuit against producer Martin Jones. One Georgia man wrote
a letter to Burns Mantle, a major critic, saying there was "no Negro
problem in Georgia."
11
Jones himself stirred up controversy. He
"employed an immigrant worker to dress as a Southern colonel and
march outside the theatre with a sandwich sign reading: 'Mulatto at
Vanderbilt Theatre is a Lewd and Lascivious Lie and Unfair to Southern
Aristocracy."
112
Consequently, southerners bought a large number of
tickets. Jones revealed his underlying racism by insulting his stars. He
had Rose McClendon, who played Cora, ride the subway home at night
when automobiles drove other stars. Jones further snubbed both Hughes
and McClendon at the opening night buffet by excluding them.
According to Darwin T. Turner:
Mulatto was the first play by an Afro-American to enjoy a long
run on Broadway. Hughes varied the familiar stereotype of the
Tragic Mulatto by substituting militancy for the characteristic
docility in a story of a mulatto who wants to be recognized as
his white father's son.
13
Arthur P. Davis links the theme of miscegenation to that of parental
rejection:
Mulatto is a fascinating example of Hughes' interest in the theme
of rejection by one's father. It struck hqme to him because he
felt that he had been rejected by his own father, whom he
thoroughly disliked. Hughes joined the rejection theme to that
10
Webster Smalley, Five Plays of Langston Hughes (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1963), 33.
11
Jay Plum," Accounting for the Audience in Historical Reconstruction: Martin
Jones's Production of Langston Hughes' Mulatto," Theatre Survey 36, 1 (May 1995):
12.
12
1bid.
13
Darwin T. Turner. "Introduction," in Black Drama in America: An Anthology
(New York: Fawcett, 1971), 9.
Miscegenation on the Stage
of the tragic mulatto, which in American literature has been
presented as a twofold rejection by parent and society.
14
39
It cannot escape notice that Langston Hughes is the only black male
playwright of this century to get serious notice with a Broadway play on
miscegenation, but he was not the only playwright to create a play that
reflected the violence of society in regard to interracial love. Lillian
Smith, a southern liberal white, wrote on the same theme.
In 1944, her Strange Fruit, the tragic story of a black woman, Nonnie
Anderson, a Spelman student, and Tracy Deen, a white male, in Maxwell,
Georgia, was staged at the Forrest Theatre in New York City. According
to some, Tracy is "no 'count," but this is a personal judgment. He might
have excelled had not his family attempted to decide everything for
him-his career, his wife, and his religion. Tracy is the son of Tut Deen,
the local physician, and Alma Deen, Tut's wife. Nonnie is the daughter
of Tillie Anderson, a local domestic.
Strange Fruit states, unequivocally, that Tracy Deen is deeply in love
with Nonnie Anderson. It is a consuming passion that controls his every
waking moment, but passion is not the only element in their affair.
Nonnie loves Tracy unconditionally and accepts him as he is. They can
talk to one another. His family is constantly undermining him, finding
fault with him and making him feel guilty, with considerable assistance
from Pastor Dunwoodie.
The play ends in massive violence. After Nonnie gets pregnant by
Tracy, he bows to community and family pressure to join the church and
prepares to marry the white Dotty Pusey. Crazed, Tracy borrows $300
from his mother, $100 of which he gives to Henry Mcintosh, the Deen
houseboy, to marry Nonnie, a fate she considered worse than death.
Tracy gives the other $200 to Nonnie. On Tracy's return from the
delivery of the money, Ed Anderson, Nonnie's brother, shoots him. The
local black physician drives Ed out of town immediately after the murder,
and Henry, who has grown up with Tracy, is the sacrificial victim, the
one who has to pay for the murder.
Henry happened to be on the scene, and a posse of "Christian" men,
who have just been at the altar of the revival that Pastor Dunwoodie is
conducting, lynch him and burn his body. Castration is suggested. It is
this lynching that gives the play its title; Ethel Waters and Billie Holiday's
song Strage Fruit includes the line "strange fruit hanging from the tree,"
that fruit being the body of a black man or woman. The novel turned
14
Arthur P. Davis, From the Dark Tower: Afro-American Writers 1900-1960
(Washington, D. C.: Howard University Press, 1974), 68.
40
GILL
play ends with a tableau of Nonnie walking the white baby she cares for
in her white uniform, her Spelman degree notwithstanding. She pulls her
long, beautiful hair into a severe bun, as is required. The tableau is
comfortable for many. Order has been restored to Maxwell. There is,
once more, the status quo. Nonnie is in her place, on the job and in her
social sphere.
Jane White, the excellent actor and fair-skinned daughter of national
NAACP president, Walter White, played Nonnie. Mel Ferrer was Tracy.
Robert Earl Jones, father of James Earl Jones, played "Big Henry." Edna
Thomas was Mamie Mcintosh, who beats into Henry his alleged
inferiority to white people. Jose Ferrer directed and the play, considered
a failure by many, cost $100,000 to mount. The backdrop of pine trees,
butterbeans and okra, magnolias, honeysuckles, cottonmouths, authentic
Negro dialect and the oppressive heat added to the verisimilitude as did
the bringing home of the body of Tracy Deen. (Caskets sat in living
rooms in the Deep South in the 1940s and other decades, as well.)
Loften Mitchell describes the response of black critics to the play:
If white critics decried the dramaturgy of the play, they had to
take a backseat in terms of what many Negroes said about it.
Dan Burley, the late Negro newspaper columnist, chastised the
work in no uncertain terms. He said Nonnie was nothing but a
"slopjar" for Tracy and he thought the work was disgraceful.
15
Mitchell also believed that no black woman with intellect would have
become involved with a "loser." I find this questionable. Tracy is a man
of manners and a modicum of refinement. As the crisis mounts, he slaps
Nonnie, but this is out of deep frustration and feelings of powerlessness.
It is not a pattern of abuse. He has genuine respect for Nonnie for many
years and cares what happens to her.
Abram Hill, a black playwright and critic, bemoans the favorable
reception of the play:
. Strange Fruit in printed words two seasons ago created a mild
explosion in literary circles that bordered on the sensational.
Strange Fruit now on the stage with spoken words and with
visual action as witnessed here ... is a sprawling piece of inept
15
Loften Mitchell, Black Drama (New York: Hawthorn Books, Inc., 1967), 126.
Miscegenation on the Stage
theatre that borders on the bore . . . the play is a colossal
disappointment.
16
41
Conversations about the play among African Americans in 1997 still
show some resentment. They argue that Spelman was a place of ultra
refinement and dignity, long before its recent national visibility as a very
positive center. Women wore gloves to the cafeteria dinner and always
dresses. At a neighboring black university in the 1940s and 1950s,
women had to be in by 6:00p.m. and could go out on Wednesdays and
Sundays in groups, if properly chaperoned. Accordingly, some argue that
Nonnie is not a believable character. The resentment of Lillian Smith's
work by people of color is, perhaps, a denial of reality.
This same denial presented itself as critics and audiences went to the
Fulton Theatre in New York City on September 26, 1945, to watch James
Gow and Arnaud d'Usseau's Deep Are The Roots, directed by Elia
Kazan. Set in the living room of Senator Ellsworth Langdon's mansion in
a small, unnamed town in the Deep South, the melodrama told of the
non-sexual, but definitely genuine and romantic love affair between
Lieutenant Brett Charles, played by Gordon Heath, and Genevra, a white
senator's daughter, played by Barbara Bel Geddes, an unknown at the
time. Brett and "Newy" have grown up in the same house, although he
was placed in a room on top of the garage as he got older. Brett's
mother, Bella, is the long-term housekeeper for the Langdons.
Through the effort of Alice, Genevra's sister and a dehumanizing,
inconsistent "liberal," Brett has gone off to study at Fisk, a very presti-
gious historically black college in Nashville, Tennessee, where many rich
and middle-class black people sent their children. As the play opens,
Brett is returning from World War II. "Nevvy" insists on accompanying
Brett's mother to the train station to welcome Brett home, much to the
dismay of several in the household. The black maid, Honey, strongly
resents Brett liking the white woman and eventually accepts a $10 bribe
from Senator Langdon to "document" false charges that send Brett to jail.
Vogue devoted two full pages to the play:
The war is like a nimbus cloud over peace in three of the new
plays, with their problems courageously and sometimes bril-
liantly faced.
Deep Are The Roots is head-on controversial drama with guts
and perception about a Negro officer who comes home to the
16
Abram Hill, [n.t.], The New York Amsterdam News, 1 December 1945, [n.p.].
42
South with brave ideas about his place. It was written by James
Gow and Arnaud d'Usseau, who have both been in the Army
Signal Corps for two years. For the officer they have Gordon
Heath, whose rich voice is famous in radio programs.
17
GILL
It is important that Gow and d'Usseau as white army men saw and
expressed strong feelings about the enormous racism confronting a
returning black war veteran. At the time of this play, no Colin Powells
existed. Units were completely segregated, and only after Harry Truman
became President the year of the play, 1945, did the army begin to
desegregate.
Two supporting roles appear important: Bella, Brett's mother, and
Alice, Genevra's sister. The mother finds Genevra's lipstick in Brett's
pocket and warns him of the dangers he is facing by loving a white
woman. She also bristles when the confused Alice tells Bella, "You
know we can't let such things happen," to which Bella responds, " You
fine and mighty white folk let it happen everyday .. .. Ask any black
woman, young and ripe."
18
To this, Alice respondst "But it's not the
same," to which Bella quickly retorts, "Isn't it? Is my woman's body less
sacred than yours? But we're good enough to share the white .man's
bed."
19
Bella leaves the Langdon household, much to the senator's
surprise, after both Alice and the senator conspire to send Brett to jail,
claiming that he stole a gold watch.
15.
Gordon Heath remembers:
The senator intimida,tes the maid into testifying that she had
found the watch in Brett's room .. The sheriff and posse arrive,
knock Brett unconscious, and haul him off to jail . . . Nevvy
confronts Brett and asks. him-on her knees-to marry her ...
Brett, though in love, and loving, tells Nevvy he cannot marry
~ r because he has pledged himself to work for h i ~ people and
17
[n.a.], "Vogue Spotlight ... on The Theatre," Vogue (15 October 1945): 114-
18
James Gow and Arnaud d'Usseau, Deep Are The Roots (New York: Charles
Scribner's Sons, 1946), 184.
19
Ibid, 185.
Miscegenation on the Stage
the South is his home. He cannot marry a white woman and
function effectively .. .
20
43
A popular success, the play offered no solutions to a dilemma yet
unresolved. It appears to me that Brett is just realistic. He is in love with
Genevra as much as she is with him. He could have proposed; he just
felt that marriage would have added too much to both of their misery.
If American playwrights have often showcased the lower depths of
miscegenation, Gow and d'Usseau are exceptions to the rule. In Deep
Are The Roots, the black hero, Brett Charles, is educated and enjoys
going to the library. "Southern tradition of the period decreed that blacks
do not enter the front door of the local library to borrow books. In fact
they do not enter the library at all. Brett does."
21
He frightens the
librarian by simply being there. Although he is most polite, his "sin" is
that he has not requested a note from Alice, as he once did before going
to the war. Now, he assumes his dignity.
At about the same time that Deep Are the Roots was enjoying its
New York run, Jean-Paul Sartre's The Respectful Prostitute opened
November 8, 1946 at Paris's Theatre Antoine. Based on the infamous
"Scottsboro [Alabama] Case" of 1931, where nine young black men,
known as the Scottsboro Boys, were accused, falsely, of raping two white
women on a freight train, this Sartre vehicle does not follow the case
historically, but in spirit. Most of the white -characters have names: Lizzie,
the prostitute, and Fred, her favorite customer. There are, in Pirandello
fashion, two characters called, simply The Negro, and The Senator. This
stock characterization contributes greatly to their invisibility and non-
personhood ..
Sartre's "The Negro" is like Ralph Ell ison's quintessential invisible
man. The prostitute has told authorities that he raped her. As he keeps
coming into her apartment asking her to tell them the truth, she seems
much more .absorbed with establishing a genuine relationship with her
current. customer. There is a perverted connection between sex and death
in this play. Sartre's. existentialism shows a Negro man alone in a
meaningless society, with only himself on whom he can rely.
In 1964, once more, the theatre took up the subject of miscegena.-
tion. Diana Sands starred on Broadway, amidst great controversy,
opposite Alan Aida in The Owl and 'the Pussycat. Delia Reyes wrote:
20
Gordon Heath, Deep Are The Roots: Memoirs of A Black Expatriate (Amherst:
The University of Massachusetts Press, 1992), 100.
21
Pawley, " Three Views of The Returning Black War Veteran, " Black American
Literature Forum 16, 4 (Winter 1982): 164.
44 GILL
" Not one line in the 1964 play was altered to accommodate or explain
her race. Her sensational performance shattered the misconceptions of
integration, an important subject in Sands' life."
22
Look magazine
reported:
In some way odd, or extravagant, a Broadway play must reflect
something America is ready to see of itself. Or it will flop. That
is why businessmen behind any show become so concerned
about casting, and why the backers of Bill Manhoff's two-
character comedy, The Owl and the Pussycat, were so jittery
over the selection of Diana Sands as the girl to play opposite
Alan Aida. No one questioned Diana's dramatic talent. The
New York Times fanfared her performance in james Baldwin's
Blues for Mister Charlie last season as one of "shattering
emotion." The New York Herald Tribune spoke of her "near-
rhapsodic force." Everyone remembered the poignancy of her
stage and screen role in Raisin in the Sun. But that was a
colored part, written for a colored actress.
23
This plot was the story of a love between a prostitute and a bookshop
clerk. Black male actors and black female actors had known very hard
times getting to display romantic affection for one another on the stage.
Love between the white Aida and the black Sands electrified audiences.
The play brought fame and a Tony nomination to Sands. Donald Bogle
remarks "Diana Sands ushered in the contemporary, untyped, intelligent
black woman. She was neither mammy nor mulatto."
24
According to the 1987 U. S. Bureau of Census, 56,000 black women
were married to white men. Traditionally, however, the black male/white
female relationships have been the norm of interracial marriages. The
less common black woman/white male relationship is the major emphasis
in Alice Childress's highly volatile Wedding Band of 1966. Wedding
Band: A Love/Hate Story in Black and White opened at the Mendelssohn
Theatre at the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor in December of 1966.
22
Delia Reyes, "Entry on Diana Sands," in Black Women in America: An
Historical Encyclopedia, ed. Darlene Clark Hine (Brooklyn: Carlson Publishing
Company, 1993), 1007.
23
S. Jaston, "Diana Sands: Notes on a Broadway Pussycat," Look (9 February
1965): 38.
24
Donald Bogie, Toms, Coons, Mulattoes, Mammies and Bucks (New York:
Viking Press, 1973), 281.
Miscegenation on the Stage 45
It then played at the Ivanhoe Theatre in Chicago and was optioned for
Broadway, but never got there. It lacked spectacle, physical violence and
true sensationalism. The content focused on the love affair between Julia
Augustine, a black seamstress, and Herman, a white baker in Charleston,
South Carolina, set against a backdrop of World War I in 1918.
Ruby Dee played Julia. She also starred in Joseph Papp's subsequent
production of the play at the New York Public Theater in 1972, co-
directed by Papp and Childress. Alice Childress also wrote the teleplay.
ABC television courageously aired it in 1973, although, according to
Rosemary Curb, eight local stations out of 168 refused to broadcast it.
25
Some telecast it around midnight.
Herman and Julia have been involved for ten years when the play
opens. Black and white neighbors and family oppose the relationship.
Blacks find it especially difficult to understand how Julia can love a white
man who earns so little money. The couple prefers to marry, but South
Carolina law forbids it. Herman brings Jul ia a wedding band to celebrate .
their tenth year together, but she must wear it on a chain around her
neck. Herman also brings a cake from his bakery, but no friends partake
in the anniversary celebration.
While there is no physical violence in the play, the emotional
violence is hard to bear. As Herman becomes ill with the "war-time
influenza," his mother and sister come to try to take him away. The
mother expected her son to "be somebody." Instead, in her opinion, he
has become "a poor baker-son layin' up with a nigger woman." She
further complicates matters when Herman has hopes of leaving for the
North where he and Julia might marry by demanding that Herman pay
her back for the loan she has given him to establish his bakery.
Julia is no model of propriety, either. In response to Herman's
mother asking, "Who do you think you are?" she responds:
I'm your damn daughter-in-law, you old bitch! The Battleship
Bitch! The bitch who destroys with her filthy mouth. They could
win the war with your kill in' mouth ... She' s kill in' him 'cause
he loved me more than anybody in the world.
26
25
Rosemary Curb, "Entry on Alice Childress" i"n The Dictionary of Literary
Biography, Vol. 7, Twentieth Century American Dramatists, Part I (Detroit: Gale
Research, 1981 ), 120.
26
Alice Childress, " Wedding Band" in New Worlds of Literature, ed. Jerome
Beaty and j. Paul Hunter (New York: W. W. Norton, 1989), 853.
Marcie Hubert, Katherine Squire, Ruby Dee, and Clarice Taylor in the world premiere of Wedding Band, by Alice Childress, on December 7, 1966.
Courtesy of Mendelssohn Theatre and Bentley Historical library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. (Photograph: Jim Galbraith)

0\
C)
'
'
Miscegenation on the Stage 47
The play ends with Herman's death. Julia holds him in her arms where
he dies in their dwelling. The couple would have been happy had not
strongly opposing forces, including laws, been too formidable. Trudier
Harris writes: "Inhuman laws combine with inhumanity to make life
much more of a struggle than it needs to be."
27
Alice Childress said of
Ruby Dee's performance: "She was just wonderful. She was just
marvelous. She was nominated for an Obie Award for best lead role for
her New York performance."
28
Awards poured on Howard Sackler's 1967 play, The Great White
Hope. Clive Barnes wrote that the play came into the Alvin Theatre on
October 3, 1968 "like a whirlwind."
29
jane Alexander, the well-known
recent head of the National Endowment for the Arts, played the white
Eleanor Bachman or Ellie, the black prizefighter jack jefferson's mistress.
She was twenty-nine years old. This was "a part in which she has to kiss
a Negro and get into bed with him."
30
Alexander reported being
followed as she left the theatre and receiving obscene letters. Some
called her "a traitor to her race."
31
Newspapers also reported boycotts
of the play and later the film.
james Earl jones reached stardom when he played jack Jefferson, a
character based on the real-life jack johnson (1878-1946), the fi"rst black
heavyweight champion of the world. Gerald Early declares: "Born in
Galveston, Texas, on 31 March 1878, johnson was the most charismatic
figure and the most notorious African American figure in the American
popular culture of his day."
32
27
Trudier Harris, "Entry on Alice Childress" in The Dictionary of Literary
Biography, Vol. 78, Afro-American Writers After 1955 (Ann Arbor: Gale Research Co.,
1 985), 70.
28
Alice Childress, Telephone interview with author, 6 August, 1992.
29
Ciive Barnes, The New York Times, 27 October, 1972, sec. I, p. 40.
30
Lewis Funke, "Jane Alexander Tells of White Hope Challenge," The New York
Times, 29 October, 1968, p. 54.
31
Ibid.
32
Gerald Early, "Entry on Jack Johnson" in The Oxford Companion to African
American Literature, ed. Andrews, Foster and Harris (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1997), 404.
48 GILL
Johnson "won the crown from Tommy Burns in Sydney, Australia,
on December 26, 1908."
33
On July 4, 1910, Johnson, in the 14th round,
knocked out Jim Jeffries in Reno, Nevada. Early observes:
johnson's fight against great white hope Jim Jeffries, in July 1910,
was the most discussed sporting event in American history at the
time. Johnson easily won the fight but race riots broke out all
over the country afterwards. . . . Indeed his impact has been
such that his name comes up whenever a famous black male is
mentioned or connected to scandal or conspicuously displays a
sexual preference for white women.
34
James Weldon Johnson wrote that thousands of spectators at the Jim
Jeffries fight howled and prayed for Jim Jeffries to "kill the nigger."
35
The
taunts probably stemmed from two sets of motivation, the desire to see
the unbeatable Jack Johnson mastered in the ring by a white man, and the
general white male hostility to black male sexual prowess, which Johnson
flaunted at every opportunity. He paraded his white wives and mistresses
with an audacity few would dare.
In 1913, Johnson left the United States due to legal entanglements
connected with white women. In 1915, in the 26th round, Johnson lost
to Jess Willard in Havana, Cuba, in what Johnson and others report was
a "fixed fight." He drove fast, defiantly; drank hard, deliberately; and
spent his money lavishly. His shoes were handmade. Reputedly, he
owned five$ 100 suits, at a time when few earned that a week. Accord-
ing to William Wiggins, Jr.: "Jack Johnson made big money and he spent
it on big cars, expensive clothes and other expensive items."
36
Lerone
Bennett explains: "The White public and to tell the truth, large sectors of
the Black public were offended by stories of Johnson speeding through
33
Harry A. Ploski and Warren Marr, The Afro-American (New York: Bellwether
Press, 1976), 700.
34
Early, 404.
35
James Weldon Johnson, Black Manhattan (New York: Atheneum Press, 1930),
66.
36
Wiggins, 61.
Miscegenation on the Stage 49
the streets of Paris, London and Chicago in big crimson racing cars filled
with White women."
37
Wiggins also reports:
Jack Johnson was married four times and had many mistresses.
He always seemed to be in trouble either because or over some
woman. Early in his life, he had been tricked out of all his
belongings by one. He was shot in the foot by one jealous
woman. He fought numerous brawls over the honor of his wife,
Etta Terry Duryea, as they toured Europe in 1911 . And finally,
his downfall and conviction under the Mann Act was the result
of sensational testimony given by one of his former lovers, Belle
Schreiber.
38
Some felt that the play whitewashed the character of the real Jack
Johnson.
Critics, as a whole, admired James Earl Jones's portrayal. Several
facets of the performance added to the Johnson mystique: Jones's physical
appearance, his extraordinary demeanor, his shaved head. Peter Hellman
in New York, described the 200 pound, six feet one and a half, 37-year-
old Jones as having "butterscotch skin and eyes the color of jade."
39
Jack Kroll of Newsweek wrote:
The play is Jones-in him all the juggling and overdeliberation
of the work become fused and ignited in a figure at once larger
than life and densely human. Jones has a great big technique
without the slightest trace of emptiness or inflation. He can
expand before your eyes from a flare point of inarticulate feeling
to a storm system of emotion. . . . His mischievous put-on
darkie [sic] humor, the complex balance of dignities and
demeanings that he must constantly negotiate, his supreme
physicality which is the triumphant paradox of his personal
power and social impotence-all this Jones creates with a style
37
Lerone Bennett, Jr. "Jack Johnson and The Great White Hope, " Ebony 49
(April 1994): 88.
38
Wiggins, 57.
39
Peter Hellman, quoted in Current Biography, Charles Mentz, ed. (New York:
H. W. Wilson Company, 1969), 227.
50
so clear and confident that it transcends style and becomes that
blend of form and energy that is acting.
40
GI LL
Jones himself announced to Leo Seligsohn of Newsday, " No other play
has drawn as much out of me; no other play has demanded as much. It's
like a birthing."
41
The play ends with the tragic suicide of Ellie, accomplished through
her jumping into a well. Jack spurns her, saying he will "cut it off first."
Unable to take the rejection, she drowns herself. Cl ive Barnes reports:
Her mud-spattered body is brought in. It is laid on Jack's
massage table, and Jack, tortured with a grief too much for a race
to bear, let alone a man, sobs out: " What Ah done to ya .. .
what you done honey ... honey, what dey done to us?" This is
a tremendous moment in the theatre-one of those moments
when the heart rushes up not just to the play, not just to the
players, but to that almost mysti c note of communication and
understanding that is perhaps the theater's most potent miracle.
42
Alexander, herself, remarked in an interview that the suicide was not the
hardest part to enact in the long run. It was the scene in the first act
when she submits to an inquisition by the District Attorney, where he is
clearly trying to find a vice law Jack has broken.
The live theatre, since 1969, has done little that has been visible,
nationally, on miscegenation. Hollywood and television have done more,
in what may be a reasonable alternative, given the financial risks involved
in mounting live theatre, especially on Broadway.
Tracy Deen summed up the frustration of many interracial lovers in
Strange Fruit:
You'd think God wanted to play a fine joke and had made
Nonnie. Here, He said, is a woman any man would love and be
proud of. She has everything you could desire. But you can't
have her. No. You can have sips and tastes, but you can't have
40
Ibid.
41
Ibid.
42
Ibid.
Miscegenation on the Stage
her. And you'll be ashamed and sneak around and feel nasty ..
. . That's the price you have to pay-for the sips.
43
51
Guilt, insanity, alienation, and hopelessness appear to be the price. Brett
Charles told Genevra Langdon that they could succeed only if they lived
on an island, an impossibility.
If, indeed, the theatre has failed to mount a significant stage play on
miscegenation since 1969, it may stand to reason that audiences cannot
bear to look at what has not changed since the beginning of the twentieth
century-violence and negative thinking toward interracial love. Renee
D. Turner posits that whi le the South has become more tolerant than it
once was of interracial love, there has been a rise in hate-groups and their
harassment of interracial couples since 1989.
44
The theatre, then, must remai n a barometer and moral compass for
society. In the twenty-first century America will be far more multicultural
than any country has ever been. As society deals increasingly with token
integration in jobs, churches and housing, more and more people of
different races are meeting and loving one another. Should the theatre
take up its banner of courage, it may represent intermarriage as one
solution to the complicated and serious problem of this century, the very
wide chasm of the racial divide.
43
Lillian Smith, Strange Fruit {Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1985),
148. {original copyright i n 1944)
44
Renee D. Turner, " Interracial Couples in the South," Ebony (June 1990): 41-
42.
journal of American Drama and Theatre 10 (Fall 1998)
Sexual Symmetry and Moral Balance
in William lnge's Bus Stop
jEFF jOHNSON
Sexual stereotypes defining femininity, masculinity, and gender roles
in social contexts were well-established during the 1950s, the heyday of
William lnge's short career. After the disruption of the war years, fixed
gender typing was not only desirable, it was required in order to seed the
idealism associated with the post-war recovery in America, and the
illusion of the well-made family was perpetuated as a necessary condition
of social stability at every level of society. The codifying image of Mom,
Dad, Buddy and Sis as the "all-American family"relied as much on
rei igious, political and business interests as it did on members of the
family understanding and sticking to their expected familial roles.
Gender stereotypes are not merely transient qualities conjured up by
the dominant patriarchal ideology to fit its own time. Many stereotypes
are based on mythical cultural archetypes that transcend epochs and
shifting political or social codification. The superficial image of the
"normal" man, circa 1950, is one of a strong and resolute head of the
household, a tough decision-maker, emotionally distant, whether in the
boardroom, the bedroom, or the local bar, and always wearing the pants
and providing for the family. On the other hand, the superficial image of
a "normal" female of the same period tends to be a deferent, passive
partner in domestic bliss-June Cleaver baking cookies in pumps and
pearls, more interested in the conveniences of modern suburbia, laundry
detergent and pot roasts, than she is in world affairs, payroll parity, a
career, politics or the hard knocks of the world outside her social life.
These sexual stereotypes, reinforced socially, politically and
culturally, become self-fulfilling-beneath every stereotype lies a truth.
Without question, during the 1950s, gender distinctions were strictly
codified to demarcate "normalcy" in relations between the sexes, from
the condescending attitude of 1950s legislation, to the Ozzie and Harriet
model of marriage, to the ingrained social. stigmas by which the
relationships between men and women were judged normal or aberrant,
acceptable or unacceptable, healthy or sick. Given the politically
charged context of contemporary gender studies, stereotypes have
Bus Stop 53
become more than weapons in the battle for cultural identification: they
have become prescriptive tools for regulating and at times legislating
behavior. As the demarcations between the dangerously deviant (thus
outlawed) and the merely eccentric (and therefore tolerated) becomes
murky, stereotyping offers the artificial but comfortable chimera of clarity.
During the 1950s, the major plays of lnge tend, at first glance, to
affirm the commonly accepted gender distinctions of the 1950s. While
it is true that in his plays lnge appropriates the gender-determined roles
of women expected in the dramatic realism of the 1950s, he also
manages, at the same time, to subvert the very stereotypes and archetypes
that reassured the public of its normalcy. This subversion is a technique
which might best be defined as "gendermandering"; that is, the
intentional undermining of expected gender roles for the dramatic
purpose of destabilizing social norms. It becomes a method used by
playwrights and supported by play directors as a means to realign gender
roles, to put gender distinctions into play, to challenge strict demarcations
and fixed gender expectations.
The concept of gendermandering is a derivation from the practice of
gerrymandering, in which voting districts are manipulated or falsified
unfairly to gain a voting advantage for one particular party over another.
Like gerrymandering, gendermandering can be culturally subversive,
acknowledging and employing stereotypes for dramatic effect while
seeming simultaneously to condemn them. Traditionally, gerrymander-
ing suggests dirty politics, a tool of New York's Tammany Hall or the
Chicago "machine" or Jim Crow laws in the South, employed to "fix" an
election by securing a safe seat created for a politician who is able to cull
the predictably favorable voters into his or her designated district.
Recently, though, gerrymandering has been used (by preeminent theorists
like Lani Guanier) to " correct"-that is, to literally "fix"-voting blocks,
many of which were originally rigged by the entrenched incumbent but
are now redrawn to include representatives for minority voters. In
gerrymandering, you acknowledge a voting pattern, then manipulate it
to guarantee a desired result.
The same is true of gendermandering, in which a stereotype is
attached to a character, but is then manipulated by the writer to expose
the stereotype for what it is. The writer starts with an artificial set of
social codes imposed on a character (similar to a voting block) then
works to subvert the type by reversing the expected patterns of behavior
(as in voting patterns). Just as many people believe that voting districts
are not in the least arbitrary but are somehow culturally inherent,
" natural " or established by tradition, so too the characters who populate
fiction are often thought of as neither arbitrary nor free but determined,
fixed, their behavior codified by nature and tradition. They can never
54 jOHNSON
escape the pigeonholes they are so conveniently shoved into. Therefore,
I ike gerrymandering, which attempts to redraw political patterns of
expected voting behavior, it is the job of gendermandering to redraw the
boundaries of fixed social patterns of behavior, giving the I ie to "nature"
and " tradition" as factors in determining a person's choice of self. And
through gendermandering, lnge's plays, while exposi ng the stereotypical
sexual patterns of the 1950s, manage also to prepare the groundwork for
the culturally transitional"gender-bending" so prevalent in contemporary
aesthetics.
Gendermandering in lnge is best illustrated by female characters who
exhibit culturally-defined male qualities, while prominent male characters
display qualities typically female. In Bus Stop, for instance, several
peripheral characters behave in a reassuringly stereotypical manner, and
yet they also act to contrast expected patterns of behavior with the
atypical patterns of the main characters. Will, the sheriff, is a bit prudish
but an okay guy, a typical right-thinking Midwestern pragmatist. Elma is
a stereotypical inquisitive young girl , and Carl, the bus driver, comes off
as a particularly stereotypical rutting-stag male. Even Lyman, for all his
nastiness, is predictably vulgar and pedophi lie. More curious, however,
are the examples of the switch-hitting gendermandered types: Bo and
Cherie, Virgil and Grace. The two women are sexually experienced,
confident. Cherie feigns innocence, though she readily admits that she's
"led a wicked life " and had "other boyfriends."
1
She is a tough,
street-smart, resourceful runaway who quit school at twelve and never
looked back. While infused with the Dionysian-or feminine-qualities
of emotional depth, intuition, and passion, she also exhibits unusually
strong Apollonian-or masculine-qualities of contrivance, masking,
superficiality, and reason. She is resilient, surviving by her wits as much
as her looks. Chameleon-like, she is capable of playing any role that fits
her immediate needs: the helpless victim, the aggressive vamp, the
diffident struggling talent naively in search of the career-making gig.
Conversely, Bo is plagued by the very qualities he finds most abject in
others but cannot recognize as present in himself: the feminine Dionysian
" flaws" of emotional excess, disorder, inebriation (claiming he never
drinks, he is intoxicated with himself), giving into inexplicable destructive
urges, and giving out much more heat than light. Most important, Bo
lacks the one quality that most defines the Apollonian male: he does not
understand the role he's playing. He believes he is the real thing, and
thereby lacks the distance necessary to recognize the various roles one
1
William lnge, Four Plays (New York: Random House, 1958), 209. All citations
to lnge's plays come from this edition. Subsequent references appear in the text.
Bus Stop
55
adopts to be socially acceptable. He lacks the luxury of distance from
himself which Cherie seems to enjoy. By the end of the play, however,
he learns to act the role of a gentleman and is thereby tamed, fitting into
the role of a normal house-husband.
Virgil and Grace likewise reverse the stereotypical personae of male
and female role playing. Grace is the one who is sexually confident, who
likes a man with "big hands" (204), who is savvy enough to keep even
hornier-than-thou Carl in line. Virgil prefers a sort of solipsistic, Platonic
bunkhouse camaraderie to any active sexual engagement, homo- or
heterosexual. In fact, Grace could well be played as a man, given the
predominant masculine-or Apollonian-characteristics she displays.
She is a strong individual, single, divorced, practical and orderly-most
of all , she is able to adapt and control. She is also capable of a cool
distance from her emotions-another primary Apollonian trait. When
Carl slips into sentimentality, romancing Grace, weakened by his need
for her, she rebuffs him with biting irony, undercutting his fumbling
attempts at seduction with a cool logical bottom line. He quips that his
friend "Dobson speaks very highly of you" (164) . She responds, "Well
. . . he better. Now what you gonna have?"(164). Grace maintains her
world-and the diner-on her terms, delegating, advising, and taking
what she wants. She is the Apollonian essence of stability and good
judgment. Virgil, on the other hand, is the epitome of Dionysian
subjectivity: he relies strictly on intuition, having no worldly experience
to back himself up. At first glance, he seems like a good diplomat:
cautious, circumspect, and level-headed. But in essence he is moderate
in the extreme. He is a loner because he cannot escape his own
subjectivity. He cannot role-play successfully enough to integrate into
society. He cannot project; his individuality collapses into itself. He is
isolated in his solipsism.
Like political gerrymandering, gendermandering is not necessarily
always a pernicious practice. Indeed, in Bus Stop the technique often
leads to a rather neat pairing off of sexual symmetry and moral balance.
From the opening scene, the play version of Bus Stop is crackling with
sexual tension. Even before everyone is out of the bus, the pairing off
begins. Elma, the innocent, goes for the cynical old drunk Lyman (the
lying man). By the end of the play she's impressed that "he wanted to
make love to me"(218) . The sexually mature Grace hooks up with Carl,
the driver (pun intended). Later, as Bo and Cherie stumble through their
mating charade, even Virgi l and Will couple as diplomats, figures of
stability and compromise. But the symmetry of these sexual alignments
is more than a mere device to drive the plot: it establishes the central
theme of disruption and reconciliation. More importantly, this structural
symmetry illustrates the significance in human affairs of an ordering
56
jOHNSON
principle, a logic that organizes the inchoate, alogical urges of human
emotions; ultimately, it represents the artistic imposition of form on the
chaotic elements of life.
Grace opens the play by telling Elma that her estranged husband
"wasn't much company, 'cept when we were making love"(155). She
confesses that she is "a restless sort of woman" who has to have "a man,
just to keep myself from gettin' grouchy"(218). Carl, her one night stand,
comes in with the wind, the violent, passionate wind of March, "like a
lion"(162). After immediately making a play for Grace, he tells the sheriff
he gets "so damned stiff" that only a walk (in the blizzard) "Freshens a
man up" and that "sometimes I walk for hours"(167). Elma, whose
budding sexuality is hardly contained but for her ignorance, is "just
curious about things"(154) and wonders if she should "Flunk my
courses"(155) to attract boyfriends. Lyman, a hedonist philosopher-on-
the-lam, like a Baudelaire decadent, connects the gutter to God, so to
speak, with his devotion to a failed aesthetics. He claims to "understand
everything" he says, but to "despise the way"(168) he says it. Wi II, the
sheriff, is the embodiment of judicious behavior, of orderliness and
common sense. He complains that "A storm like this makes me mad ..
. like all the elements . . . lost their reason"(156). Virgil, too, represents
restraint and diplomacy, his integrity reinforced by his name, conjuring
both the stern moralist of Dante and the gentle Virgin of the New
Testament. Ironically, however, Virgil's justice, like Will's, is based as
much on his sexual neutrality as on his ability to manipulate the
heterosexually coded games the others are playing: disinterested himself,
he gives good advice.
These themes of passion and containment, of a necessary human
order threatened by natural elements of disruption, are reinforced by
Grace's indictment of marriage as a passion-killer. She tells Elma that
"makin' love is one thing, and being lonesome is another" and that "me
and Barton [her estranged husband] were usually fightin."' She concludes
that "all married people aren't like Barton and I" but that she was "just
as lonesome when he was here"(155). As a representative of the stable
community values-along with the curiously cautious Elma and the
responsible, even-tempered sheriff Will-Grace nevertheless is the one
who most appreciates the unpredictability inherent in her job: catering
to bus loads of strangers habitually arriving and departing, briefly
interrupting the routine of her life. When Will complains that the storm
makes him "mad" and that he prefers to "see things in order," Grace
says, "Let it blowl"(156) . And when Elma, still sexually tentative, says,
"I'm glad I'm not traveling on the bus tonight"(156), Grace tells her,
"Remember, honey, I always serve Carl"(157). The situation, then, in the
diner is clear: Will's sanctum of sanity is set against Grace's delight in
Bus Stop 57
disorder. And the message is equally clear: the diner, an image of
Apollonian order, also houses the potentially subversive "elements" of
Dionysian delirium.
But the central pairing off in the play is, of course, that of the country
boy Bo with the city girl Cherie. Ostensibly seen as diametrical
opposites-she is refined, he is rough; she is tender, he is tough; she is
"citified," he is about as "country" as it gets-they actually are as similar
as they are different, both defined by their masquerades. One way of
reading the play suggests that Cherie' s "decadence" will be "purified"
once she is exposed to clean, simple country living and that Bo's
saw-toothed edge will be blunted once he understands the difference
between roping cattle and charming women. A different reading suggests
that both characters' decadence is based on their masquerade. When
Cherie enters the cafe, she is described as "pretty in a fragile, girlish
way," and her mask-motif is graphically depicted: "Her lipstick creates
a voluptuous pair. of lips that aren't her own" (157). When Bo enters, he
is described as "rumpledly picturesque" and able to "pass" as an
"outlaw" (169). Obviously, Bo and Cherie are not what they appear to
be. Their essences, in Kierkegaard's terms, are divorced from their
phenomena. (lnge's personal library was full of Kierkegaard, Jung, and
many general texts on Existentialism.) Bo is the ingenue and Cherie is the
sleazy demimonde Bo thinks of as an angel. She is a child/whore, at
once a femme fatale and Shirley Temple, begging to be protected while
inured from being abused. So's innocence is equally contradictory: he is
a bronco-busting tough guy who cries when his toy is denied him. just
as Cherie projects what she denies, Bo's brashness covers his sensitivity.
Of course Bo, who over-identifies himself with the schoolyard bully, is
actually the proverbial sheep in wolf's clothing, an idea reinforced by his
losing the fight with Will . He appears quick to spark, but he is all wet
too. He is swaggering and arrogant, but as pliant and submissive as a pet.
Likewise, Cherie is vamping to hide from herself, concealing her tough
independence with her patented girlish charm. Their dilemma is that the
more Cherie says no, the more she projects yes, while the more Bo says
yes, the more he projects no. The only resolution is for each to penetrate
the masquerade of the other, to discover, again in Kierkegaard's terms,
the essence behind the phenomenon-the true face behind the mask. Bo
discovers the woman in the girl. Cherie discovers the boy in the man.
After she admits that she has led a "wicked" (209) l ife, he confesses that
he is "kinda' green" (210). Their masks are removed, their essences
conjoin with their phenomena, and they are suddenly what they say they
are-all irony gone. Their relationship, now honest, can now develop in
earnest.
58 jOHNSON
All the passengers operate within the same dynamic. just as Grace
(and Elma) are looking forward to the disruption the bus occasions, the
passengers are seeking shelter from the storm of unchecked passion
raging on the bus. Just as Will is the marker in the diner against which
Grace (and Elma) can measure the intensity of her emotions, Virgil
emerges from the bus as the one left out, a man whose jaded desire
leaves him hungering only for his own music-a "t-backy" (170)
spitting-image of mid-Western self-reliance. Conversely, Cherie enters
disheveled, claiming she needs "protection" (158); but as a torch singer
her talent is to provoke and channel passion into expression, to stimulate
and control. Bo's job, too, is to bridle the raw animal power of horses
and bulls-again, tapping a source of power and at the same time
harnessing it. Of course, in 8o's case self-control is more difficult than
busting bulls. When he comes up against the implacable moral
imperative of Will ("a very religious man" who has "never lost a fight"
(190)), and when he hears Cherie sing "That Old Black Magic," Bo's
leash on his emotions snaps and he must be forcibly brought back into
line. Finally, regarding Lyman, Will is told by Carl to "keep and eye on
him too" (167). Lyman's depravity-lnge describes him as depraved
(vii i)-is neatly expressed by his ostentatious and patronizing erudition.
His perversity is internally checked only by his drunken self-loathing and
is externally checked by the authorities hounding him from state to state.
Beyond its function to allow Lyman a dramatic opportunity for
self-recognition, the scene from Romeo and juliet reinforces the central
themes of the play: disruption and reconciliation, thematic pairing, and
unchecked desire as a threat to a traditional stable set of values. The
tragic and fatal consequences of Shakespeare's drama, however, are
avoided in lnge's comedy by the intervention of the prudent nurses-
Virgil and Will-who successfully minister compromise and discretion to
the unruly lovers.
In fact, the moral movement in the play is toward conventionality.
Aberrant behavior is either corrected or punished. Lyman is recognized
for the monster he is, and his attempt to seduce Elma is thwarted. Carl
and Grace strike up a marriage of convenience, based on what lnge
describes as " animal heat" (204) checked only by Grace's sense of
modesty. Once Bo is tamed, and Cherie pacified, their mutual happiness
is all but guaranteed. The winners and losers are identified by how well
they adapt their instinctual drives to "normal" civilized behavior, and this
perversion creates the most curious dynamic in the play: the pairing off
of Bo and Virgil, the replacement of Virgil by Cherie, and the subsequent
"punishment" of Virgil for his "unnatural" relationship with Bo. Virgil's
crime is that he lacks passion. His ultimate punishment, finally, is his
literally being left out in the cold at the end of the play. Ironically, Virgil
Bus Stop 59
embodies an exemplary sense of forethought and even-handedness-
virtues Bo lacks. Virgil intercedes on his behalf, but by the end of the
play the very virtues that secure Bo's success in love doom Virgil to a
passionless isolation, leaving him outcast and alone. His virtue of being
reasonable is also his vice. Virgil tells Bo that he "gave up romancin' and
decided I was just gonna' take being' lonesome for granted" (183) . He
feels "uncomfortable" with women, preferring "the bunkhouse" with his
"buddies" (185). In one way, his role is parallel to Grace's. He protects
and advises Bothe way Grace does Elma. However, Grace's moderated
sexuality hooks her into the community of relations while Virgil's sterility
exiles him. Eventually, Cherie assumes the role of mother and wife,
displacing Virgil. He stoically accepts his fate by merely commenting
"that's what happens to some people" (219)-meaning, of course, those
people who have given up the zest for life, whose uneasiness with
passion leaves them emotionally anemic.
Whereas the play operates within a clearly symmetrical pattern of
sexual pairing, the film version of Bus Stop dramatically diminishes the
dynamic sexuality in the play (certainly in part to comply with the
acceptable moral codes of the 50s) and by doing so cancels the
gendermandering which makes the stage version more subversive,
relevant and powerful. The incorrigible Lyman is eliminated altogether.
The libidinous liaison between Grace and Carl, explicit in the play, is
reduced to sophomoric flirting and locker-room insinuations. Virgil is
I ikewise transformed from a latent-gay big brother to a harmless, if
lecherous, grandpa gallant. Even Elma's impish curiosity is whited-out.
But of all the characters, Cherie, played by Marilyn Monroe, is the one
most changed from play to film. Whereas Bo remains as goofy in the
movie as he is "green"(210) in the play (but somehow more cartoonish,
his antics more exaggerated), Cherie is nearly stripped of character (as it
were), half-naked most of the film. The sexual vitality she embodies in
the play is perverted into pure icon: a center-fold center-screen, her
essence proportionally diminished by the degree to which she is
over-exposed, exploited as much by the audience' expectations as by the
relentless pursuit of the camera-eye. In one of those pernicious ironies
which seem to punctuate her career, the producers set up Monroe as a
sort of sexual scapegoat. If anything unseemly happens, it must be her
fault. They allow her to play to her salacious reputation while salvaging
the moral integrity of the film. Thus the play is democratic, its sexuality
equally distributed among all the characters, while the film goes out of
its way to neutralize everyone but Monroe, all the overt sexuality safely
wrapped up in her image.
In his forward to the Random House collection Four Plays, lnge
writes that he "never sought to write plays that primarily tell a story" (vii),
60
jOHNSON
preferring instead to create "extensions of meaning beyond the
immediate setting" (viii) . He explicitly acknowledges the allegorical
pattern of Bus Stop, writing that "the cowboy's eagerness, awkwardness,
and naivete in seeking love were interesting only when seen by
comparison . . . with the amorality of Cherie, the depravity of the
professor, the casual earthiness of Grace and Carl" and "the innocence
. . . of Elma." Otherwise "the characters may have been interesting, but
not very meaningful" (viii).
lnge's attention to the patterning processes of human existence-
gendermandering in a metafictional sense-fits well within the tradition
of Idealist philosophy. lnge echoes Kant's notion of the mind's activity
imposing order on the raw material of sensation when, in the same essay,
he writes that "a play' s merits can exist, not in the dramatization . .. but
in the over-all pattern and texture of the play" (viii). His use of Bo to
represent irrational desire in need of meaningful context similarly reflects
Kant's idea (later refined by both Schopenhauer and Freud) of the conflict
between will and inclination (between Schopenhauer's blind desire and
reason; between Freud's id and super-ego). The most controlling force
in the play (perhaps not coincidentally) is Will, and this naming of the
sheriff recalls Kant's contemporary, Fichte: "Wil l is in a special sense the
essence of reason" (viii) . About Bus Stop lnge writes that he "meant it
only as a composite picture of varying kinds of love, from the innocent
to the depraved" (viii). It is by this moral imposition of a framework on
desire, the very structuring process-which Roland Barthes has called
perhaps the most ethical activity of man-that Bus Stop survives as more
than just an entertaining romantic comedy. Its significance and perennial
value exist in its ultimate moral imperative: the ability of men to order
their passions, and of the artist to marry design to desire.
lnge has stated that his interest in writing plays was to "dramatize
something of the dynamism . .. in human motivations and behavior"
(vii). His remark underscores the playwright's concern with Aristotle's
two primary elements of drama: action and character (in more modern
terms, plot and psychology). Even though lnge does manage successfully
to create in his plays strong dramatic tension through the dynamics of
story and situation, a deeper current of drama runs below the surface of
his plays. Characters suffer not only from their conflicts with others or
from the plot-imposed barriers to their immediate material goals. They
suffer on an existential level. They are divorced from their mythical,
cultural essence. They are forced into roles they are ill-equipped to
play-and this subversive challenge to stereotypes, which informs lnge's
major work throughout the 50s, elevates the impact of his plays from
mere theatre into the broader social arena of current sexual politics and
contemporary expectations of gender.
journal of American Drama and Theatre 10 (Fall1998)
Index to
The journal of American Drama and Theatre
The following is an index of all articles that have appeared in The journal
of American Drama and Theatre from Volume Six, Number One, Fall
1994 through Volume Ten, Number Three, Fall 1998. The articles are
grouped according to the century with which they deal most prominently
and are arranged both by author and title. The numbers at the end of
each entry represent: volume: number, beginning page.
TWENTIETH CENTURY
Author Index
Acker, Barbara F.
"I Charge Thee Speak":
John Barrymore and His Voice Coach,
Margaret Carrington
Almeida, Diane
Four Saints in Our Town:
A Comparative Analysis of Works by
Gertrude Stein and Thornton Wilder
Balakian, Jan
Interviews with Wendy Wasserstein
Bhasin, Kamal
" Women, Identity, and Sexuality":
An Interview with Edward Albee
Black, Cheryl
Ida Ruah: Power Player at Provincetown
Pioneering Theatre Managers:
Edna Kenton and Eleanor Fitzgerald of
the Provincetown Players
Blank, Martin
Thornton Wilder's Early Work in the Theatre
Blood, Melanie N.
The Neighborhood Playhouse's Salut au Monde:
A Theatrical Vision Of 1920s America
7:3,43
9:3,1
9:2,58
7:2,18
6:2/3,63
9:3,40
8:1,18
7:2,41
62
Brustein, Robert
Harold Clurman and the Group Theatre
Burkman, Katherine H.
The Myth of Narcissus: Shepard's True West and
Mamet' s Speed the Plow
Bzowski, Frances Diodato
"Torchbearers of the Earth":
Women, Pageantry, and World War I
"Torchbearers of the Earth":
]ADT
Women and Pageantry Between the World Wars 7:3, 58
Cardullo, Bert
The Blue Rose of St. Louis: Laura, Romanticism, and
The Class Menagerie 10:2, 1
Whose Town is it, Anyway?:
An Historico-Aesthetic Inquiry into Our Town 8:1, 38
Carpenter, Charles, A.
American Dramatic Reactions To the Birth of the Atomic Age 7:3,13
Caruso, C. Cristina
"One Finds What One Seeks": Arthur Miller's The Crucible
as a Regeneration Of the American Myth of Violence 7:3, 30
Chansky, Dorothy
Theatre Arts Monthly and the Construction of
the Modern American Theatre Audience 10:1, 51
Cless, Downing
Ecology vs. Economy in
Robert Schenkkan's The Kentucky Cycle 8:2, 59
Condee, William F.
The Search for America's National Theatre
at the Vivian Beaumont 6:2/3, 49
"The Rise and Fall of the Mustache":
Opera House and Culture in Late Nineteenth- and
Early Twentieth-Century Appalachia 10:3, 12
Cummings, Scott T.
Psychic Space: The Interiors of Maria Irene Fornes 1 0:2, 59
Dellamora, Richard
Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 9:3, 73
Fields, L. Marc
"Masters of Our Business": The Shuberts and Lew Fields 7:1, 1
Fink, Larry
Creating a New Broadway:
The American Playwrights Theatre Production of
The Night Thoreau Spent in jail or What is
Henry David Thoreau Doing In Campus Riots
Index
and Nixon's Hometown?
From "Madness" to "The Cosmos":
Gay/Lesbian Characters in the Plays of Lanford Wilson
Giles, Freda Scott
Disparate Voices:
African-American Theatre Critics Of the 1920s
Glitter, Glitz, and Race: The Production of Harlem
Gill, Glenda
Love in Black and White: Miscegenation on the Stage
Gillian, Cinda
Tracers: This is our Parade
A First Look at an Understudied Vietnam Drama
Goldfarb, Alvin
The Holocaust an the Air:
63
7:1, 40
7:2, 57
7:1 , 28
7:3, 1
10:3, 32
8:3, 50
The Radio Plays of the Writers' War Board 8:2, 48
Gross, Roger F.
The Pleasures of Brick: Eros and the Gay Spectator in
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof 9:1, 11
Helfer, Richard
The Drag: Mae West and the Gay World 8:1, 50
jacobs, Dorothy H.
Mamet' s Inland Sea 8:2, 41
Johnson, Jeff
Sexual Symmetry and Moral Balance in
William lnge' s Bus Stop 10:3, 52
King, W.O.
Beyond "A Certain Chain of Reasoning":
Wallace Shawn's Aunt Dan and Lemon 6:1, 61
Kolin, Philip
From Coitus to Craziness: The Italian Premiere of
A Streetcar Named Desire 10:2, 74
Kreitzenbeck, Alan
Garland Anderson's Appearances:
the Playwright and His Play 6:2/3, 28
Lalonde, Chris
"To Rave Noti ces": William Faulkner's
Requiem for a Nun At the Royal Court Theatre 7:1, 64
Landro, Vincent
The Mythologizing of American Regional Theatre 10:1, 76
Levine, Eric M.
Hidden Perspectivism: A Contemporary Nietzschean Approach
to O'Neill's Days Without End 10:3, 1
64
Lin, Hsieh-Chin
Staging Orientalia: Dangerous "Authenticity" in
David Henry Hwang's M. Butterfly
Luere, Jeane
Objectivity in the Growth of a Pulitzer:
Edward Albee's Three Tall Women
Maschio, Geraldine
Effeminacy or Art? The Performativity of Julian Eltinge
Mates, julian
Experiments on the American Musical Stage in the Twenties
McConachie, Bruce
The Dining Room:
A Tocquevillian Take on the Decline of WASP Culture
Parlor Combat
Neff, D.S.
Horse vs. Crow: Sam Shepard, Ted Hughes, and
The T oath of Crime
Neumann, Claus-Peter
Tennessee Williams's Plastic Theatre: Camino Real
Newlin, Keith
Uplifting the Stage:
Haml in Garland and the Chicago Theatre Society
Novak, Deborah
The Forgotten Music of Triple-A Plowed Under,
Power, and One Third of a Nation
N unns, Stephen
Reflections in the Mirror:
Public Arts Funding in the United States
Oliver, Michael
Street Theatre Epiphanies:
Maryat Lee and the Making of Dope!
Pawley, Thomas D.
Eugene O'Neill and American Race Relations
Plunka, Gene A.
Buddhism on the Contemporary American Stage:
Jean-Claude van ltallie's The Tibetan Book of the Dead
Rabillard, Sheila
Crossing Cultures and Kinds: Maria Irene Fornes
and the Performance of a Post-Modern Sublime
Redd, Tina
Stevedore in Seattle: A Case Study in the
Politics of Presenting Race on Stage
JADT
9:1, 26
7:2, 1
10:1, 28
8:2, 12
10:1,39
8:3,94
8:3, 35
6:2/3, 93
8:1, 1
6:2/3, 12
8:3, 79
10:2, 26
9:1, 66
8:2, 26
9:2, 33
7:2,66
Index
Richardson, Brian
Genre, Transgression, and the Struggle for
(Self) Representation in U.S. Ethnic Drama
Riggs, Mike
Paradox Now
Roarty, Robert
Fun To Be Free: Intervention Takes the Stage
Schari ne, Richard G.
Kaleidoscope of the American Dream
Shelton, Lewis E.
David Belasco and the Scientific Perspective
Shout, John D.
The Idiosyncratic Theatre of John Howard Lawson
Stacy, james R.
Making the Grave Less Deep:
A Descriptive Assessment of Sam Shepard's
Revisions to Buried Child
Stephens, Judith L.
Lynching, American Theatre, and
The Preservation of a Tradition
Sundgaard, Arnold
The Group Remembered
Susan G laspell and The Federal Theatre Revisited
Tanner, jo A.
Classical Black Theatre:
The Federal Theatre's All-Black "Voodoo Macbeth"
Weales, Gerald
Shaw' s American Inheritors
Alan Schneider on Broadway
Wood, Gerald C.
Horton Foote's Politics of Intimacy
Title Index
" Alan Schneider on Broadway"
65
8:3, 1
10:3, 21
9:1 , 36
10:2, 40
1 0:1 1 1
8:1, 67
9:3, 59
9:1, 54
8:2, 1
9:11 1
7: 11 50
6:2/ 3, 1
7:3, 79
9:2, 44
by Gerald Weales 7:3, 79
"American Dramatic Reactions To the Birth of the Atomic Age"
by Charles A. Carpenter 7:3, 13
" Beyond ' A Certain Chain of Reasoning':
Wallace Shawn's Aunt Dan and Lemon"
by W.O. King 6:1, 61
66 }ADT
"The Blue Rose of St. Louis: Laura, Romanticism, and
The Glass Menagerie"
by Bert Cardullo 10:2, 1
"Buddhism on the Contemporary American Stage:
Jean-Claude van ltallie's The Tibetan Book of the Dead"
by Gene A. Plunka 8:2, 26
"Classical Black Theatre:
The Federal Theatre's All-Black 'Voodoo Macbeth' ''
by Jo A. Tanner 7:1, 50
" Creating a New Broadway:
The American Playwrights Theatre Production of
The Night Thoreau Spent in jail or What is
Henry David Thoreau Doing in Campus Riots and
Nixon's Hometown?"
by Larry Fink 7:1, 40
" Crossing Cultures and Kinds:
Maria Irene Fornes and the Performance of
a Post-Modern Sublime"
by Sheila Rabi llard 9:2, 33
"David Belasco and the Scientific Perspective"
by Lewis E. Shelton 10:1, 1
" The Dining Room:
A Tocquevillian Take on the Decline of WASP Culture"
by Bruce McConachie 10:1, 39
" Disparate Voices:
African-American Theatre Critics Of the 1920s"
by Freda Scott Giles 7:1,28
" The Drag: Mae West and the Gay World"
by Richard Helfer 8:1, SO
" Ecology vs. Economy in
Robert Schenkkan's The Kentucky Cycle"
by Downing Cless 8:2, 59
"Effeminacy or Art? The Performativity of Julian Eltinge"
by Geraldine Maschio 10:1, 28
"Eugene O' Neill and American Race Relations"
by Thomas D. Pawley 9:1, 66
"Experiments on the American Musical Stage in the Twenties"
by Julian Mates 8:2, 12
"The Forgotten Music of Triple-A Plowed Under, Power, and
One Third of a Nation"
by Deborah Novak 6:2/3, 12
Index
"Four Saints in Our Town: A Comparative Analysis of
Works by Gertrude Stein and Thornton Wilder"
67
by Diane Almeida 9:3, 1
" From Coitus to Craziness:
The Italian Premiere of A Streetcar Named Desire"
by Philip Kolin 10:2, 74
"From 'Madness' to 'The Cosmos' :
Gay/ Lesbian Characters in the Plays of Lanford Wilson"
by Larry Fink 7:2, 57
"Fun To Be Free: Intervention Takes the Stage"
by Robert Roarty 9:1 , 36
"Garland Anderson's Appearances: the Playwright and His Play"
by Alan Kreizenbeck 6:2/3, 28
"Genre, Transgression, and the Struggle for
(Self) Representation in U.S. Ethnic Drama"
by Brian Richardson 8:3, 1
"Glitter, Glitz, and Race: The Production of Harlem"
by Freda Scott Giles 7:3, 1
"The Group Remembered"
by Arnold Sundgaard 8:2, 1
"Harold Clurman and the Group Theatre"
by Robert Brustein 6:1 , 1
"Hidden Perspectivism: A Contemporary Nietzschean Approach
to O' Neill's Days Without End"
By Eric M. Levine 10:3, 1
"The Holocaust on the Air:
The Radio Plays of the Writers' War Board"
by Alvin Goldfarb
"Horse vs. Crow: Sam Shepard, Ted Hughes, and
The Tooth of Crime"
by D.S. Neff
" Horton Foote's Politics of Intimacy"
by Gerald C. Wood
" 'I Charge Thee Speak': John Barrymore and
His Voice Coach, Margaret Carrington"
by Barbara F. Acker
"Ida Ruah: Power Player at Provincetown"
by Cheryl Black
"The Idiosyncratic Theatre of John Howard Lawson"
by John D. Shout
" Interviews with Wendy Wasserstein"
by Jan Balakian
8:2, 48
8:3, 35
9:2, 44
7:3,43
6:2/3, 63
8:1, 67
9:2, 58
68 ]AOT
"Kaleidoscope of the American Dream"
by Richard Scharine 10:2, 40
"Love in Black and White: Miscegenation on the Stage"
by Glenda Gill 10:3, 32
"Lynching, American Theatre, and
The Preservation of a Tradition"
by Judith Stephens 9:1 , 54
" Making the Grave Less Deep: A Descriptive Assessment of
Sam Shepard's Revisions to Buried Child"
by James R. Stacy 9:3, 59
"Mamet's Inland Sea"
by Dorothy H. Jacobs 8:2, 41
" 'Masters of Our Business' : The Shuberts and Lew Fields"
by L. Marc Fields 7:1 , 1
" The Myth of Narcissus: Shepard's True West and
Mamet's Speed the Plow"
by Katherine H. Burkman 9:2, 23
"The Mythologizing of American Regional Theatre"
by Vincent Landro 10:1, 76
"The Neighborhood Playhouse's Salut au Monde:
A Theatrical Vision of 1920s America"
by Melanie N. Blood 7:2, 41
"Objectivity in the Growth of a Pulitzer:
Edward Albee' s Three Tall Women"
by Jeane Luere 7:2, 1
" Paradox Now"
by Mike Riggs 10:3, 21
" Parlor Combat"
by Bruce McConachie 8:3, 94
" Pioneering Theatre Managers:
Edna Kenton and Eleanor Fitzgerald of
the Provincetown Players"
by Cheryl Black 9:3, 40
"The Pleasures of Brick: Eros and the Gay Spectator in
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof"
by Roger F. Gross 9:1, 11
"Psychic Space: The Interiors of Maria Irene Fornes"
by Scott T. Cummings 10:2, 59
" Reflections in the Mirror:
Public Arts Funding in the United States"
by Stephen Nunns 8:3, 79
Index
"'The Rise and Fall of the Moustache':
Opera House and Culture in Late Nineteenth-
and Early Twentieth-Century Appalachia"
69
by William F. Candee 10:3, 12
"The Search for America's National Theatre at
the Vivian Beaumont"
by William Faricy Candee 6:2/3, 49
"Sexual Symmetry and Moral Balance in
William lnge's Bus Stop"
by Jeff Johnson 10:3, 52
"Shaw's American Inheritors"
by Gerald Weales 6:2/3, 1
"Staging Orientalia" Dangerous 'Authenticity' in
David Henry Hwang's M. Butterfly"
by Hsieh-Chen Lin 9:1, 26
"Stevedore in Seattle: A Case Study in the Politics of
Presenting Race on Stage"
by Tina Redd 7:2, 66
"Street Theatre Epiphanies:
Maryat Lee and the Making of Dope!"
by Michael Oliver 10:2, 26
"Susan Glaspell and The Federal Theatre Revisited"
by Arnold Sundgaard 9:1, 1
"Tennessee Williams's Plastic Theatre: Camino Real"
by Claus-Peter Neumann 6:2/3, 93
"Theatre Arts Monthly and the Construction of
the Modern American Theatre Audience"
by Dorothy Chan sky 1 0:1, 51
"Tony Kushner and the 'Not Yet' of Gay Existence"
by Richard Dellamora 9:3, 73
"Thornton Wilder's Early Work in the Theatre"
by Martin Blank 8:1, 18
"'To Rave Notices': William Faulkner's Requiem for a Nun
At the Royal Court Theatre"
by Chris Lalonde 7:1, 64
" 'T arch bearers of the Earth':
Women and Pageantry Between the World Wars"
by Frances Diodato Bzowski 7:3, 58
" 'Torchbearers of the Earth':
Women, Pageantry, and World War I"
by Frances Diodato Bzowski 7:2, 88
70
"Tracers: This is Our Parade;
A First Look at an Understudied Vietnam Drama"
by Cinda Gillian
"U pi ifti ng the Stage:
Hamlin Garland and the Chicago Theatre Society"
by Keith Newlin
" Whose Town is it, Anyway?:
An Historico-Aesthetic Inquiry into Our Town"
by Bert Cardullo
" 'Women, Identity, and Sexuality':
An Interview with Edward Albee"
by Kamal Bhasin
]ADT
8:3, 50
8:1 I 1
8:1' 38
7:2, 18
Index
71
NINETEENTH CENTURY
Author Index
Anthony, Susan M.
Made in Ameri ca: Adaptations of British Gothic Plays for
the American Stage: 1790-1820 8:3, 19
" This Sort of Thing ... "
Productions of Gothic Plays in Ameri ca: 1790-1830 6:2/ 3, 81
Candee, William F.
"The Rise and Fall of the Mustache":
Opera House and Culture in Late Nineteenth- and
Early Twentieth-Century Appalachia 10:3, 12
Curry, j .K.
Petticoat Governments:
Early Women Theatre Managers in the United States 6:1, 13
Frick, john W.
Anti-Intellectualism and Representations of 'Commonness' in
the Nineteenth-Century American Theatre 9:2, 1
Houchin, John H.
Depraved Women and Wicked Plays:
Olga Nethersole's Production of Sapho 6:1, 40
Kritzer, Amelia Howe
Mary Carr Clarke' s Dramas of
Working Women, 1815-1833 9:3, 24
Meserve, Walter j .
Occupational Hazards of the Playwright during the
Age of jackson 6:1, 5
Shelton, Lewis E.
David Belasco and the Scientific Perspective 10:1, 1
Title Index
" Anti-Intellectualism and Representations of 'Commonness' in
the Nineteenth-Century American Theatre"
by john W. Frick 9:2, 1
"David Belasco and the Scientific Perspective"
by Lewis E. Shel ton 1 0: 1, 1
"Depraved Women and Wicked Plays:
Olga Nethersole's Production of Sapho"
by John H. Houchin 6:1, 40
72 }ADT
"Made in America: Adaptations of British Gothic Plays for
the American Stage: 1 790-1 820"
by Susan Anthony 8:3, 19
"Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women, 1815-1833"
by Amelia Howe Kritzer 9:3, 24
"Occupational Hazards of the Playwright during
the Age of jackson"
by Walter j. Meserve 6:1, 5
"Petticoat Governments: Early Women Theatre Managers
in the United States"
byj.K.Curry 6:1,13
'"The Rise and Fall of the Moustache' :
Opera House and Culture in Late Nineteenth-
and Early Twentieth-Century Appalachia"
by William F. Candee
" 'This Sort of Thing .. . '
Productions of Gothic Plays in Amer ica: 1790-1830"
by Susan Anthony
10:3,12
6:2/3, 81
Index
73
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
Author Index
Anthony, Susan M.
Made in America: Adaptations of British Gothic Plays for the
American Stage: 1790-1820 8:3, 19
"This Sort of Thing ... "
Productions of Gothic Plays in America: 1790-1830 6:2/3, 81
Title Index
''Made in America: Adaptations of British Gothic Plays for the
American Stage: 1 790-1820"
by Susan Anthony 8:3, 19
"'This Sort of Thing ... '
Productions of Gothic Plays in America: 1790-1830"
by Susan Anthony 6:2/3, 81
CONTRIBUTORS
74
WILLIAM F. CON DEE is Associate Professor and Associate Director
in the School of Theater at Ohio University. He is the author of
Theatrical Space: A Guide for Directors and Designers(Scarecrow
Press, 1995). His articles on theatre space have appeared in
journal of American Theatre and Drama, Architectural Review,
World Architecture, Theatre Design and Technology, Themes in
Drama and Theatre Insight. Articles on other subjects have
appeared in Theatre Annual, Western European Stages and The
Eugene O'Neill Review. Professor Condee is currently studying
the relationship of the opera house and local culture in
Appalachia.
GLENDA E. GILL teaches drama in the Department of Humanities at
Michigan Technological University. She is the author of White
Crease Paint on Black Performers: A Study of the Federal Theatre,
1935-7939 (Peter Lang, 1988) and "Morgan Freeman's Resistance
and Non-Traditional Roles" in Popular Culture Review. Other
articles by Professor Gill have appeared in The Drama Review and
Theatre Survey.
jEFF jOHNSON, recipient of two Fulbright teaching assignments and
a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities, is
currently teaching at The Technical University of Budapest.
ERIC LEVIN teaches theatre courses at the Sequoia Theatre
Conservatory in Visalia, California. His teaching experience
includes dramatic literature, design, acting and creative dramatics
in colleges in Oregon, North Dakota and California. His
production credits include directing and acting as well as lighting
and scenic design. Levin has contributed to The Eugene O'Neill
Review and Theatre Research International.
MIKE RIGGS is a student of lighting design and dramatic literature at
Vassar College.
GS
uc
Faculty include:
Albert Bermel
William Boddy
Jane Bowers
Jonathan Buchsbaum
Harry Carlson
Marvin Carlson
George F. Custen
Miriam D'Aponte
Morris Dickstein
Jill Dolan
Mira Feiner
Deborah Geis
Daniel Gerould
Jonathan Kalb
Samuel Leiter
Stuart Liebman
Judith Milhous
David Nasaw
Benito Ortolani
Tony Pi polo
Leonard Quart
Joyce Rheuban
James Saslow
Pamela Sheingorn
Ella Shohat
Alisa Solomon
Gloria Waldman
Elisabeth Weis
David Willinger
The Graduate School and University Center of CUNY
offers doctoral education in
and a Certificate Program in
ihn studies
interdisciplinary options with distinguished
Graduate Center faculty in other fields
and through a consortia! arrangement including
New York University and Columbia University
affiliated with the
Center for Advanced Study in Theatre Arts (CASTA).
Recent seminars include:
Contemporary Performance
Theory and Technique
The Current New York Season
Feminist Theory and Performance
Melodrama
The History Play
Dramaturgy
Simulations
Film Aesthetics
Romanticism
Shakespeare's Comedies
Journal of American Drama and Theatre,
Slavic and East European Performance,
Western European Stages
Lesbian and Gay Theatre and Performance
Classicism
Theatre History
Dramatic Structure
Theatre Criticism
American Film Comedy
American Realism
Kabuki
Films and Theatre of lngmar Bergman
Native American Theatre
Women and the Avant-Garde
Post-Coloniality and Performance
Executive Officer: Professor Jill Dolan
Ph.D. Program in Theatre
CUNY Graduate School and University Center
33 West 42 Street, New York, NY 10036
telephone 1212) 6422231 fax 121 2) 6421977
jbarfiel @email.gc.cuny.edu
www.gc.cuny. edu
1 ~ : ., ,,. I, \ : ' ' . I ,. I . ~ . : -
11 1 : :1- , .. : : : !"-' I Jt ., ! ' I : I ' ! ::; ~ : , : ' ;.
, .. : . : . ... . 1 1:1 ~ ... . \ ~ - ~ ~
,; ... . - - . : ~
, .. : ..1-f c ~ ~ .. '#' llr. .
An indispensable resource in keeping abreast of the latest theatre
developments in Western Europe. Issued three times a year - Spring,
Winter, and Fall - and edited by Marvin Carlson, each issue contains
a wealth of information about recent European festivals and
productions, including reviews, interviews, and reports. Winter
issues focus on the theatre in individual countries or on special
themes. News of forthcoming events: the latest in changes .in artistic
directorships, new plays and playwrights, outstanding performances,
and directorial interpretations. - $15 per annum ($20.00 foreign).
Please send me the following CAST A publication:
Western European Stages
_ @ $15.00 per year
(Foreign) _ @ $20.00 per year
Total
Send order with enclosed check to:
CASTA, CUNY Graduate Center
33 West 42nd Street
New York, NY 10036
The Journal of
American Drama
,..--........ -..,-.
The widely acclaimed journal devoted solely to drama and theatre
in the USA - past and present. Provocative, thoughtful articles by
the leading scholars of our time providing invaluable insight and
information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its
continuing contribution to world literature and the performing
arts. Edited by Vera Mowry Roberts. Published three times per
year- $12 per annum ($18.00 foreign).
Please n rm the following
CAST A publication:
Journal of Amnicun Drama
and Tht'alrt' _@ SJ2.00 per year
(Foreign)_@ $18.00
Total __
Send orkr with enclosed check to:
CASTA. CUNY Graduate Center
33 West 42nd Street
New York. NY 10036
CASTA
The Graduate School and Uf'JYetslty Center
of The City Un-vet"srty of New YM
VOlume twelve lO j
sptng 1992
Now in its 15th year, this journal, edited by Daniel Gerould and
Alma Law. brings readers lively. authoritative accounts of drama,
theatre. and film in Russia and Eastern Europe. Includes features
on important new plays in performance. archival documents,
innovative productions, significant revivals, emerging artists, the
latest in film. Outstanding interviews and overviews. Published
three timt:s per year - $10 per annum ($15.00 foreign).
----------------------------------------------
Please send me the rollowing
CASTA publication:
Sla1ic a111l Ea.\fem Eumpean
Pnformunce _ <e' $10.00 per year
(f,lreign) __ (p $15.00
Total
Send order with enclosed check to:
CASTA. CUNY Graduate Center
33 West -l2nd Street
New York, NY 10036
MICHIGAN QUARTERLY REVIEW
ANNOUNCES A SPECIAL ISSUE FOR THE FALL OF 1998
ON THE OCCASION OF THE 50TH ANNIVERSARY OF
DEATH OF A SALESMAN
ARTHUR MILLER
Symposium: 21 eminent playwrights comment on their experience of
Death of a Salesman and Miller's life and work. Plus a new interview
with Arthur Miller about the play
Plays: Two previously untranslated theatrical sketches by Anton
Chekhov; scenes from a play by Robert Hayden about Harriet
Tubman; a new one-act play by Arthur Miller --
Essays: John Barth, "Further Questions?" (The Hopwood Lecture,
1998); Christopher Bigsby, "Arthur Miller: Poet"; Enoch Brater,
"Arthur Miller: The British and American Perspectives"; Laurence
Goldstein, "The Fiction of Arthur Miller"; Brenda Murphy, "Willy
Loman: Icon of Business Culture"; Gerald Weales, "Arthur Miller in the
1950s"
Fiction and Poetry: Short stories by Linda Bamber and Nina Kossman
on themes of theatricality; new poems on subjects pertinent to Miller's
life and work by Michael Blumenthal, Jennifer Compton, Philip C.
Kolin, David Lehman, Eugenio Montale, Nicolette Nicola, Larissa
Szporluk, Baron Wormser, Jody A. Zorgdrager
Graphics: A 16-page portfolio of photographs, many of Arthur Miller,
with an artist's preface, by lnge Morath
Reviews: Michael Szalay on new books about salesmanship, the
consumer culture, and Cultural Studies; Richard Tillinghast on the
poetry of Hopwood Award winners Anne Stevenson and Nancy Willard;
Robert Vorlicky on the contemporary American stage
For a copy of the Fall issue, send a check for
seven dollars (includes postage and handling) to:
Michigan Quarterly Review, University of Michigan
3032 Rackham Bldg., Ann Arbor, Ml 48109-1070
http://www.umich.edu/-mqr