Thirty Pieces of Silver: A Play in Three Acts

by Howard Fast

  FULLER Where I come from——

  HILDA (interrupting savagely) I know—just let it drop! I know. Where you come from, black people don’t talk like that to white people. What makes you think it’s any different here than where you come from? But I’m talking like that to you, Mr. Fuller. Plain, ordinary English. Only when I use it, you don’t understand it, do you? Just such a pity! When I say something, it makes no sense, does it? You got to ask what I’m talking about.

  FULLER Real trouble, girl. You’re going to find a lot of real trouble, behaving this way.

  HILDA I’m used to trouble. Trouble’s an old friend of mine. Pity is, I never stopped to think about it until these past few days.

  FULLER You don’t know who I am, do you, girl?

  HILDA Oh, I know, all right. That’s easier than knowing ABC, and I even know that. It’s an old gift of my folks to smell a policeman.

  FULLER (controlling himself very carefully) I don’t know what’s eating you, girl, but it never pays to make enemies of those who could be your friends.

  HILDA You a friend of mine, Mr. Fuller?

  FULLER I could be, Hilda.

  HILDA And then I could go everywhere and say, Ain’t no harm coming to me. Mr. Fuller, he’s my friend.

  FULLER If you wished, Hilda.

  HILDA And what do I have to do to get that kind of fine friendship?

  FULLER Just be civil, Hilda. Politeness is cheap enough. Just answer my questions when I ask them.

  HILDA Like what?

  FULLER Like where’s Mrs. Graham now?

  HILDA (All of her responses now, when not hostile and bitter, are merely flat, almost toneless.) Upstairs—lying down.

  FULLER Is she ill?

  HILDA I don’t know.

  FULLER We’re not in court, Hilda. We could be in court, you know. But we’re not. I ask questions—I expect answers.

  HILDA You’re getting answers.

  FULLER (who rises and ambles toward HILDA, taking on now the approach of that kind of Southerner who sheds all humanity in his relationship with Negroes) You surprise me, Hilda. I misjudged you—misjudged you completely. Here you are, all full of piss and vinegar——

  HILDA Don’t use that kind of language to me!

  FULLER (cupping his hand under her chin) Bad talk, Hilda?

  HILDA Take your hand away. Don’t touch me!

  FULLER (standing hack and folding his arms) Why Hilda, so help me, I think you’re just a bad ni——

  HILDA Don’t use that word either!

  FULLER —and I don’t like that kind, Hilda. I don’t like it at all, not one bit. l’m a Southerner, Hilda. I know you. Just talk plain and polite to me.

  HILDA (turning to leave) I don’t intend to talk any way at all to you.

  FULLER Just one minute, Hilda.

  (A knife edge is in his voice. HILDA halts and turns around.)

  Don’t play games with me, Hilda. I’m polite. Don’t let my politeness fool you, Hilda. I represent the Department of Justice, Hilda. Don’t under-estimate me; don’t underestimate the department, Hilda. I want to ask you some questions. Don’t dig a grave for yourself, Hilda. Talk polite to me.

  HILDA And call me Miss Smith.

  FULLER Very well, Miss Smith. Now first of all—why did Mr. Graham go out and where did he go?

  HILDA He went to buy a newspaper.

  FULLER Why don’t you sit down, Hilda? Be more comfortable.

  HILDA I’ll stand, Mr. Fuller;

  FULLER As you wish. But don’t play games with me, Hilda. Mr. Graham didn’t just go out to buy a newspaper. He went out to read about Agronsky. He’s keenly interested in Agronsky, isn’t he?

  HILDA I don’t know what he’s interested in, Mr. Fuller. I don’t even care what he’s interested in.

  FULLER So that’s the way it’s going to be, Hilda—and where did you learn your style, from Agronsky and his friends?

  HILDA I’m very tired, Mr. Fuller. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have things to do.

  FULLER And so have I, Hilda. How long have you been with the Grahams?

  HILDA I haven’t been with them. I’ve been working for them two years or so.

  FULLER You like working for them?

  HILDA I don’t like working for white folks. I wouldn’t even like to work for you, Mr. Fuller.

  FULLER (containing himself with effort) No? But I’m an American, Hilda. I shouldn’t think you’d want better than to work for Mrs. Graham.

  HILDA Why?

  FULLER She’s a Red, isn’t she?

  (HILDA begins to smile.)

  What are you laughing at?

  HILDA You.

  (FULLER steps forward suddenly and slaps HILDA across the face. She doesn’t move and the smile doesn’t leave her face.)

  FULLER Get out of here!

  (But HILDA doesn’t move. She stands there, and now JANE speaks from above.)

  JANE Hilda—who’s there?

  (HILDA stands rigid. FULLER turns away from her, drops into a chair and lights a cigarette.)

  HILDA!

  HILDA (pulling herself together and going to the foot of the stairs) It’s that gentleman who was here yesterday, Mrs. Graham.

  (JANE comes down the stairs now. She is wearing a dressing-gown, and her face is drawn and nervous. She comes into the room and stops, facing FULLER, who rises to greet her.)

  FULLER (graciously) How do you do, Mrs. Graham. I hope I didn’t take too great a liberty to drop in like this.

  JANE You can’t really take any liberties, can you, Mr. Fuller? Whatever you do is all right, isn’t it, Mr. Fuller?

  FULLER (diffidently) I hardly think that’s fair.

  JANE Do you always do what’s fair, Mr. Fuller?

  FULLER I try to. That’s all any of us can say, isn’t it?

  HILDA (with controlled irony) May I go and finish packing, Mrs. Graham?

  FULLER (unctuously) Is your girl leaving, Mrs. Graham?

  JANE (speaking with almost tortured concentration) Yes. And she’s not a girl. A woman, Mr. Fuller. Look at her. Do you understand—a woman.

  (HILDA exits. JANE walks over to the piano, watching FULLER, who drops into a chair again.)

  FULLER They’re all the same, aren’t they? The mind of a child and the responsibility of a child.

  JANE I don’t think so, Mr. Fuller. I said that before. But you don’t listen to what you don’t want to hear. You’re full of your own questions, aren’t you, Mr. Fuller?

  FULLER (raising his brows) I see. I almost forgot——

  JANE (interrupting) Yes, Mr. Fuller, you forgot about my political views. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

  FULLER (a note of anger in his voice) I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to be ashamed of, Mrs. Graham.

  JANE What a colossal ego. Have you ever done anything to be proud of?

  FULLER (rising and forcing a smile in return) I owe you an apology. I’m sorry, Mrs. Graham.

  JANE They train you to be polite, don’t they? I’ve been thinking all day, like in a hotel—European plan, American plan. How do they do it? Do they have a printed set of instructions? Or do they have classes in how to behave before women—different classes of course for white women and for black women.

  FULLER (with abiding patience) I shall have to repeat myself, Mrs. Graham. I hardly think that’s fair.

  JANE (taking a few steps toward him) I’m hardly concerned any more with what you think or what you don’t think, Mr. Fuller. Does that hurt your feelings?

  FULLER It doesn’t hurt my feelings; Mrs. Graham, because I understand your reactions completely. On the other hand——

  (The bell rings, and JANE goes to open the door. DAVID enters, carrying a paper, which he opens for JANE before he sees FULLER.)

  DAVID (exhibiting the paper, the headlines of which proclaim: AGRONSKY CALLED AS STAR WITNESS) There it is.

  JANE We have a guest, David.

  FULLER Good evening, Mr. Graham. I took the liberty of dr
opping in. I felt it was fairly important—important enough for me to do away with formalities.

  DAVID (halting uncertainly) How do you do, Mr. Fuller.

  FULLER I suppose you didn’t expect to see me so soon.

  DAVID No.

  FULLER At least I come with better tidings than last time.

  DAVID I don’t know that it matters a hell of a lot now, Mr. Fuller.

  FULLER (alert and easy-going) And that’s just where you’re wrong, Graham. Your wife was taking me over the coals before you arrived, and I can’t say I blame her. She has every right to have it in for me—and so do you. That’s what I was trying to explain to her just now, but I must admit——

  (He laughs appreciatively.)

  —she didn’t give me half a break. Well, she’s a fighter, and I like a fighter, but I can’t say I like being cast as a villain.

  DAVID What are you talking about, Mr. Fuller?

  FULLER Couldn’t we talk better if we sat down? I’ve had a hard day, and yours hasn’t been a bed of roses. I mean that whole stupid unpleasantness that took place this afternoon. Why don’t we all sit down?

  JANE Why don’t you say whatever you want to say, Mr. Fuller, instead of beating around the bush?

  FULLER (sitting down, although DAVID and JANE remain standing) Because it’s a little more than a word or two, Mrs. Graham.

  DAVID I think I ought to tell you, Mr. Fuller——

  FULLER (interrupting) About Carmichael? I know that. I saw Carmichael at six o’clock to-day. I saw Selwin. I saw the chief over at the department. I’ve spent four hours on the phone, and just let me tell you, Mr. Graham, that phones have been ringing on the Hill as well as elsewhere.

  (He leans lack, stretching out his feet and looking from face to face. He lights a cigarette.)

  That’s why I think I deserve to sit down and to talk about this in a civilized, fashion. I think we all deserve it.

  (most earnestly)

  And I just want to put myself on the record for one thing. I consider what happened between you and your chiefs this afternoon a God damned shame, a fine demonstration of stupidity and lack of co-ordination. If anything in this whole business is un-American, it’s precisely that kind of an action, trying and condemning a man on hearsay and the flimsiest kind of rumour—I know what you must have felt about me. But now that’s straightened out—and I think we’d all do best to forget about it, wouldn’t’ we?

  (JANE does not relax; she stands and watches FULLER, but DAVID takes a few steps toward him and gingerly sits down, shaking his head uncertainly.)

  DAVID You mean—there’ll be no resignation, no hearing?

  FULLER That’s right.

  DAVID (staring at FULLER for a long moment, then turning to his wife. His uncertainty is still with him.) Did you hear that, Jane?

  (She doesn’t react, and he turns hack to FULLER.)

  I have to get used to that, Mr. Fuller. (He laughs nervously.) I was trying to figure out—where do I go from here? Now——

  FULLER I would have felt the same way in your place; Mr. Graham. It’s funny, isn’t it, how a man like Agronsky, even though you hardly knew him, can become such a determining factor.

  DAVID It is. (He stands up.) I think I need a drink. Will you have one, Mr. Fuller?

  FULLER No, thank you.

  DAVID Jane?

  (She shakes her head. DAVID goes to the tray and pours himself whiskey and water. He turns back to FULLER.)

  I guess I’m no hero. You look like Santa Claus to me, Mr. Fuller.

  FULLER (smiling and shaking his head) I don’t feel quite that joyous, Mr. Graham. It’s your good fortune that you can step in and out of a thing like this, but for me, it’s a continuing grind. That’s one of the facts I impressed on my chief when I had him step into your case. I pointed out to him that if all people were as co-operative as you, he could fire a few of us. At any rate, our work would be a lot easier.

  (He rises and picks up his hat from the piano. Then he halts himself, as if he has just recalled something of no great importance.)

  Oh yes, there’s a brief deposition here which I’d like to have you sign before I leave, Mr. Graham.

  (He fumbles a moment in his breast pocket, pulls out an envelope and extracts a folded, legal-sized paper.) 88

  DAVID (He takes the paper and reads it. JANE watches him, remaining where she is. He reads through the paper and then glances up at FULLER, who is standing calmly, almost disinterestedly, by the piano. DAVID walks over to the piano and sets his drink down. He reads the paper again. When he speaks, the momentary elation is gone from his voice.) I don’t understand this.

  FULLER Why, Mr. Graham? It couldn’t be more simply stated, could it?

  DAVID According to this——

  (He stares at the document again, groping for words.)

  Well, it puts me in a funny position, Mr. Fuller. It says here that I know Leonard Agronsky is a member of the Communist Party and that I’ve seen his party card. It even gives the number of the card here. I haven’t seen his party card, Mr. Fuller.

  FULLER (casually) What difference does that make, Graham? If the number is there, it means the card exists.

  DAVID But—well, it puts me in a funny position. I don’t know that much about Agronsky. I tried to help you with everything I know about him. But I don’t know——

  (He breaks off and turns to JANE, who is watching him evenly and levelly.)

  JANE (very flatly) Don’t look at me, David. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen his party card either.

  FULLER Isn’t this much ado about nothing, Graham?

  (He picks up DAVID’S newspaper, points out the headline, and then tosses it aside.)

  Agronsky is in for it, and whatever you do won’t change that one bit. Now, I’ve tried to play fair with you, Graham, but are you playing fair with me?

  DAVID (staring at the deposition miserably) It isn’t that I don’t want to help you any way I can.

  FULLER (The hard-edge creeping into his voice.) Then what is it, Graham? It doesn’t look to me like you’re trying to be particularly co-operative. The department isn’t asking you to perform miracles. This is a very simple matter, and I can’t think of any red-blooded American who wouldn’t go along with it.

  (Miserably, staring at the paper which he has now put down on the piano, trying to fight it through on grounds which are totally unfamiliar to him, DAVID stands there without moving. Both FULLER and JANE watch him, neither of them moving. A long moment passes.)

  Well, Graham, are you going to sign it?

  (Still DAVID doesn’t react. FULLER speaks more softly.)

  Agronsky has no call on your sympathies, that I can tell you. The sooner we rid ourselves of his kind, the better off we will be. His loyalty isn’t to our country, and it isn’t to our way of life. If you consider it a matter of principle, then ask yourself where is their principle in their slave camps and their torture chambers? If I were in your place, Graham, I would sign that and consider it a good day’s work in the service of my country. You ought to understand what service means. You were in the service, weren’t you?

  (Now DAVID looks up at him. He stares at FULLER directly, his face twitching slightly. Then he looks at JANE. There is a sudden warmth in JANE, a flicker of a smile that just breathes on her face. There is a suggestion that she would move toward DAVID, hut that she is caught and held hack. She stands there. DAVID turns hack to FULLER.)

  DAVID And if I don’t sign it?

  FULLER Why raise that possibility at all, Graham? I’m here as your friend, don’t you understand that?

  (His voice softens and becomes intimate.)

  We’re not working at cross purposes, Graham. I’m not going to raise threats about your job, about a blacklist, about what it means to go out through a loyalty hearing. Because I don’t see any of that in the picture at all. You said something to Carmichael about your people coming over here to this country a long time back. Well, how many real white Americans are there
? Christ Almighty, Graham, I shouldn’t have to persuade you——

  (He glances at JANE. She is staring at her husband.)

  DAVID (turning to JANE) You can see his point, Jane.

  (She makes no answer. DAVID stands and looks at her. Then, compulsively, he walks to the piano, takes a pen that FULLER holds out to him, and signs the letter. JANE doesn’t move. FULLER smiles as he folds the document.)

  FULLER I’d like to shake hands with you, Mr. Graham. I consider it a privilege.

  (DAVID shakes hands with him.)

  Good night, Mrs. Graham.

  (JANE does not move or answer.)

  Good night, Mr. Graham.

  (He starts to the door, stops at the vestibule and turns back to DAVID.)

  Also, just let me say this, Mr. Graham. From here on, you have a few damn good friends in damn good places. That’s something to hang on to.

  (He exits. DAVID now looks at JANE, who meets his gaze. He looks away. The silence becomes intense, painful. Then, suddenly, JANE’S face is contorted. A sob, visible, not audible, wracks her body. She bends her head, so that DAVID should not see her face.)

  (DAVID goes over to her and tries to lift her head. She tears away.)

  JANE (vehemently) Don’t touch me!

  DAVID Jane—Jane, won’t you listen to me?

  (She looks up at him now, on her face the searching, uncomprehending expressions of a stranger.)

  I did what was right. I had to do it.

  JANE (very softly) I suppose you did, David. I suppose you did. I suppose there was no other way for it, was there?

  DAVID (trying to stimulate an emotional anger to match hers) What in hell is your stake in Agronsky?

  (JANE stares at him. Her face twitches, and then she begins to laugh, half hysterically. The laughter turns into sobs. She walks to the staircase, facing away from DAVID, her body wracked again. Then it passes.)

  JANE What is my stake in Agronsky?

  (She turns to him.)

  What is my stake in you, David?

  (Her face contorts and she speaks softly.)

  Oh, my God!

  (Wow HILDA enters. HILDA looks from one to the other. JANE speaks to her very gently.)

  What is it, Hilda?

  HILDA (looking at her for a long moment before answering. She is making a determined effort to be unaffected by what is happening between these two people. She wants to cut it off from herself. Hers is one world. Theirs is another.) My bag is packed, Mrs. Graham. I’m going now, and there’s some money coming to me.