ANN: Joe, you owe him nothing.
KELLER: I owe him a good kick in the teeth, but he’s your father. . . .
CHRIS: Then kick him in the teeth! I don’t want him in the plant, so that’s that! You understand? And besides, don’t talk about him like that. People misunderstand you!
KELLER: And I don’t understand why she has to crucify the man.
CHRIS: Well, it’s her father, if she feels . . .
KELLER: No, no. . . .
CHRIS, almost angrily: What’s it to you? Why . . . ?
KELLER, a commanding outburst in his high nervousness: A father is a father! As though the outburst had revealed him, he looks about, wanting to retract it. His hand goes to his cheek. I better . . . I better shave. He turns and a smile is on his face. To Ann: I didn’t mean to yell at you, Annie.
ANN: Let’s forget the whole thing, Joe.
KELLER: Right. To Chris: She’s likable.
CHRIS, a little peeved at the man’s stupidity: Shave, will you?
KELLER: Right again.
As he turns to porch Lydia comes hurrying from her house, right.
LYDIA: I forgot all about it . . . Seeing Chris and Ann: Hya. To Joe: I promised to fix Kate’s hair for tonight. Did she comb it yet?
KELLER: Always a smile, hey, Lydia?
LYDIA: Sure, why not?
KELLER, going up on porch: Come on up and comb my Katie’s hair. Lydia goes up on porch. She’s got a big night, make her beautiful.
LYDIA: I will.
KELLER—he holds door open for her and she goes into kitchen. To Chris and Ann: Hey, that could be a song. He sings softly.
Come on up and comb my Katie’s hair . . .
Oh, come on up, ’cause she’s my lady fair—
To Ann: How’s that for one year of night school? He continues singing as he goes into kitchen.
Oh, come on up, come on up, and comb my lady’s hair—
Jim Bayliss rounds corner of driveway, walking rapidly. Jim crosses to Chris, motions him up and pulls him down to stage left, excitedly. Keller stands just inside kitchen door, watching them.
CHRIS: What’s the matter? Where is he?
JIM: Where’s your mother?
CHRIS: Upstairs, dressing.
ANN, crossing to them rapidly: What happened to George?
JIM: I asked him to wait in the car. Listen to me now. Can you take some advice? They wait. Don’t bring him in here.
ANN: Why?
JIM: Kate is in bad shape, you can’t explode this in front of her.
ANN: Explode what?
JIM: You know why he’s here, don’t try to kid it away. There’s blood in his eye; drive him somewhere and talk to him alone.
Ann turns to go up drive, takes a couple of steps, sees Keller and stops. He goes quietly on into house.
CHRIS, shaken, and therefore angered: Don’t be an old lady.
JIM: He’s come to take her home. What does that mean? To Ann: You know what that means. Fight it out with him someplace else.
ANN—she comes back down toward Chris: I’ll drive . . . him somewhere.
CHRIS, goes to her: No.
JIM: Will you stop being an idiot?
CHRIS: Nobody’s afraid of him here. Cut that out!
He starts for driveway, but is brought up short by George, who enters there. George is Chris’s age, but a paler man, now on the edge of his self-restraint. He speaks quietly, as though afraid to find himself screaming. An instant’s hesitation and Chris steps up to him, hand extended, smiling.
Helluva way to do; what’re you sitting out there for?
GEORGE: Doctor said your mother isn’t well, I . . .
CHRIS: So what? She’d want to see you, wouldn’t she? We’ve been waiting for you all afternoon. He puts his hand on George’s arm, but George pulls away, coming across toward Ann.
ANN, touching his collar: This is filthy, didn’t you bring another shirt?
George breaks away from her, and moves down and left, examining the yard. Door opens, and he turns rapidly, thinking it is Kate, but it’s Sue. She looks at him, he turns away and moves on left, to fence. He looks over it at his former home. Sue comes downstage.
SUE, annoyed: How about the beach, Jim?
JIM: Oh, it’s too hot to drive.
SUE: How’d you get to the station—Zeppelin?
CHRIS: This is Mrs. Bayliss, George. Calling, as George pays no attention, staring at house off left: George! George turns. Mrs. Bayliss.
SUE: How do you do.
GEORGE, removing his hat: You’re the people who bought our house, aren’t you?
SUE: That’s right. Come and see what we did with it before you leave.
GEORGE—he walks down and away from her: I liked it the way it was.
SUE, after a brief pause: He’s frank, isn’t he?
JIM, pulling her off left: See you later. . . . Take it easy, fella. They exit, left.
CHRIS, calling after them: Thanks for driving him! Turning to George: How about some grape juice? Mother made it especially for you.
GEORGE, with forced appreciation: Good old Kate, remembered my grape juice.
CHRIS: You drank enough of it in this house. How’ve you been, George?—Sit down.
GEORGE—he keeps moving: It takes me a minute. Looking around: It seems impossible.
CHRIS: What?
GEORGE: I’m back here.
CHRIS: Say, you’ve gotten a little nervous, haven’t you?
GEORGE: Yeah, toward the end of the day. What’re you, big executive now?
CHRIS: Just kind of medium. How’s the law?
GEORGE: I don’t know. When I was studying in the hospital it seemed sensible, but outside there doesn’t seem to be much of a law. The trees got thick, didn’t they? Points to stump: What’s that?
CHRIS: Blew down last night. We had it there for Larry. You know.
GEORGE: Why, afraid you’ll forget him?
CHRIS, starts for George: Kind of a remark is that?
ANN, breaking in, putting a restraining hand on Chris: When did you start wearing a hat?
GEORGE, discovers hat in his hand: Today. From now on I decided to look like a lawyer, anyway. He holds it up to her. Don’t you recognize it?
ANN: Why? Where . . . ?
GEORGE: Your father’s . . . he asked me to wear it.
ANN: . . . How is he?
GEORGE: He got smaller.
ANN: Smaller?
GEORGE: Yeah, little. Holds out his hand to measure. He’s a little man. That’s what happens to suckers, you know. It’s good I went to him in time—another year there’d be nothing left but his smell.
CHRIS: What’s the matter, George, what’s the trouble?
GEORGE: The trouble? The trouble is when you make suckers out of people once, you shouldn’t try to do it twice.
CHRIS: What does that mean?
GEORGE, to Ann: You’re not married yet, are you?
ANN: George, will you sit down and stop—?
GEORGE: Are you married yet?
ANN: No, I’m not married yet.
GEORGE: You’re not going to marry him.
ANN: Why am I not going to marry him?
GEORGE: Because his father destroyed your family.
CHRIS: Now look, George . . .
GEORGE: Cut it short, Chris. Tell her to come home with me. Let’s not argue, you know what I’ve got to say.
CHRIS: George, you don’t want to be the voice of God, do you?
GEORGE: I’m . . .
CHRIS: That’s been your trouble all your life, George, you dive into things. What kind of a statement is that to make? You’re a big boy now.
GEORGE: I’m a big boy now.
CHRIS: Don’t come bulling in here.
If you’ve got something to say, be civilized about it.
GEORGE: Don’t civilize me!
ANN: Shhh!
CHRIS, ready to hit him: Are you going to talk like a grown man or aren’t you?
ANN, quickly, to forestall an outburst: Sit down, dear. Don’t be angry, what’s the matter? He allows her to seat him, looking at her. Now what happened? You kissed me when I left, now you . . .
GEORGE, breathlessly: My life turned upside down since then. I couldn’t go back to work when you left. I wanted to go to Dad and tell him you were going to be married. It seemed impossible not to tell him. He loved you so much . . . He pauses. Annie . . . we did a terrible thing. We can never be forgiven. Not even to send him a card at Christmas. I didn’t see him once since I got home from the war! Annie, you don’t know what was done to that man. You don’t know what happened.
ANN, afraid: Of course I know.
GEORGE: You can’t know, you wouldn’t be here. Dad came to work that day. The night foreman came to him and showed him the cylinder heads . . . they were coming out of the process with defects. There was something wrong with the process. So Dad went directly to the phone and called here and told Joe to come down right away. But the morning passed. No sign of Joe. So Dad called again. By this time he had over a hundred defectives. The Army was screaming for stuff and Dad didn’t have anything to ship. So Joe told him . . . on the phone he told him to weld, cover up the cracks in any way he could, and ship them out.
CHRIS: Are you through now?
GEORGE, surging up at him: I’m not through now! Back to Ann: Dad was afraid. He wanted Joe there if he was going to do it. But Joe can’t come down . . . he’s sick. Sick! He suddenly gets the flu! Suddenly! But he promised to take responsibility. Do you understand what I’m saying? On the telephone you can’t have responsibility! In a court you can always deny a phone call and that’s exactly what he did. They knew he was a liar the first time, but in the appeal they believed that rotten lie and now Joe is a big shot and your father is the patsy. He gets up. Now what’re you going to do? Eat his food, sleep in his bed? Answer me; what’re you going to do?
CHRIS: What’re you going to do, George?
GEORGE: He’s too smart for me, I can’t prove a phone call.
CHRIS: Then how dare you come in here with that rot?
ANN: George, the court . . .
GEORGE: The court didn’t know your father! But you know him. You know in your heart Joe did it.
CHRIS, whirling him around: Lower your voice or I’ll throw you out of here!
GEORGE: She knows. She knows.
CHRIS, to Ann: Get him out of here, Ann. Get him out of here.
ANN: George, I know everything you’ve said. Dad told that whole thing in court, and they . . .
GEORGE, almost a scream: The court did not know him, Annie!
ANN: Shhh!—But he’ll say anything, George. You know how quick he can lie.
GEORGE, turning to Chris, with deliberation: I’ll ask you something, and look me in the eye when you answer me.
CHRIS: I’ll look you in the eye.
GEORGE: You know your father . . .
CHRIS: I know him well.
GEORGE: And he’s the kind of boss to let a hundred and twenty-one cylinder heads be repaired and shipped out of his shop without even knowing about it?
CHRIS: He’s that kind of boss.
GEORGE: And that’s the same Joe Keller who never left his shop without first going around to see that all the lights were out.
CHRIS, with growing anger: The same Joe Keller.
GEORGE: The same man who knows how many minutes a day his workers spend in the toilet.
CHRIS: The same man.
GEORGE: And my father, that frightened mouse who’d never buy a shirt without somebody along—that man would dare do such a thing on his own?
CHRIS: On his own. And because he’s a frightened mouse this is another thing he’d do;—throw the blame on somebody else because he’s not man enough to take it himself. He tried it in court but it didn’t work, but with a fool like you it works!
GEORGE: Oh, Chris, you’re a liar to yourself!
ANN, deeply shaken: Don’t talk like that!
CHRIS, sits facing George: Tell me, George. What happened? The court record was good enough for you all these years, why isn’t it good now? Why did you believe it all these years?
GEORGE, after a slight pause: Because you believed it. . . . That’s the truth, Chris. I believed everything, because I thought you did. But today I heard it from his mouth. From his mouth it’s altogether different than the record. Anyone who knows him, and knows your father, will believe it from his mouth. Your Dad took everything we have. I can’t beat that. But she’s one item he’s not going to grab. He turns to Ann. Get your things. Everything they have is covered with blood. You’re not the kind of a girl who can live with that. Get your things.
CHRIS: Ann . . . you’re not going to believe that, are you?
ANN—she goes to him: You know it’s not true, don’t you?
GEORGE: How can he tell you? It’s his father. To Chris: None of these things ever even cross your mind?
CHRIS: Yes, they crossed my mind. Anything can cross your mind!
GEORGE: He knows, Annie. He knows!
CHRIS: The Voice of God!
GEORGE: Then why isn’t your name on the business? Explain that to her!
CHRIS: What the hell has that got to do with . . . ?
GEORGE: Annie, why isn’t his name on it?
CHRIS: Even when I don’t own it!
GEORGE: Who’re you kidding? Who gets it when he dies? To Ann: Open your eyes, you know the both of them, isn’t that the first thing they’d do, the way they love each other?—J. O. Keller & Son? Pause. Ann looks from him to Chris. I’ll settle it. Do you want to settle it, or are you afraid to?
CHRIS: . . . What do you mean?
GEORGE: Let me go up and talk to your father. In ten minutes you’ll have the answer. Or are you afraid of the answer?
CHRIS: I’m not afraid of the answer. I know the answer. But my mother isn’t well and I don’t want a fight here now.
GEORGE: Let me go to him.
CHRIS: You’re not going to start a fight here now.
GEORGE, to Ann: What more do you want!!!
There is a sound of footsteps in the house.
ANN, turns her head suddenly toward house: Someone’s coming.
CHRIS, to George, quietly: You won’t say anything now.
ANN: You’ll go soon. I’ll call a cab.
GEORGE: You’re coming with me.
ANN: And don’t mention marriage, because we haven’t told her yet.
GEORGE: You’re coming with me.
ANN: You understand? Don’t . . . George, you’re not going to start anything now! She hears footsteps. Shsh!
Mother enters on porch. She is dressed almost formally, her hair is fixed. They are all turned toward her. On seeing George she raises both hands, comes down toward him.
MOTHER: Georgie, Georgie.
GEORGE—he has always liked her: Hello, Kate.
MOTHER—she cups his face in her hands: They made an old man out of you. Touches his hair: Look, you’re gray.
GEORGE—her pity, open and unabashed, reaches into him, and he smiles sadly: I know, I . . .
MOTHER: I told you when you went away, don’t try for medals.
GEORGE—he laughs, tiredly: I didn’t try, Kate. They made it very easy for me.
MOTHER, actually angry: Go on. You’re all alike. To Ann: Look at him, why did you say he’s fine? He looks like a ghost.
GEORGE, relishing her solicitude: I feel all right.
MOTHER: I’m sick to look at you. What’s the matter with your mother, why don’t she feed you?
ANN: He
just hasn’t any appetite.
MOTHER: If he ate in my house he’d have an appetite. To Ann: I pity your husband! To George: Sit down. I’ll make you a sandwich.
GEORGE, sits with an embarrassed laugh: I’m really not hungry.
MOTHER: Honest to God, it breaks my heart to see what happened to all the children. How we worked and planned for you, and you end up no better than us.
GEORGE, with deep feeling for her: You . . . you haven’t changed at all, you know that, Kate?
MOTHER: None of us changed, Georgie. We all love you. Joe was just talking about the day you were born and the water got shut off. People were carrying basins from a block away—a stranger would have thought the whole neighborhood was on fire! They laugh. She sees the juice. To Ann: Why didn’t you give him some juice!
ANN, defensively: I offered it to him.
MOTHER, scoffingly: You offered it to him! Thrusting glass into George’s hand: Give it to him! To George, who is laughing: And now you’re going to sit here and drink some juice . . . and look like something!
GEORGE, sitting: Kate, I feel hungry already.
CHRIS, proudly: She could turn Mahatma Gandhi into a heavyweight!
MOTHER, to Chris, with great energy: Listen, to hell with the restaurant! I got a ham in the icebox, and frozen strawberries, and avocados, and . . .
ANN: Swell, I’ll help you!
GEORGE: The train leaves at eight-thirty, Ann.
MOTHER, to Ann: You’re leaving?
CHRIS: No, Mother, she’s not . . .
ANN, breaking through it, going to George: You hardly got here; give yourself a chance to get acquainted again.
CHRIS: Sure, you don’t even know us any more.
MOTHER: Well, Chris, if they can’t stay, don’t . . .
CHRIS: No, it’s just a question of George, Mother, he planned on . . .
GEORGE—he gets up politely, nicely, for Kate’s sake: Now wait a minute, Chris . . .
CHRIS, smiling and full of command, cutting him off: If you want to go, I’ll drive you to the station now, but if you’re staying, no arguments while you’re here.
MOTHER, at last confessing the tension: Why should he argue? She goes to him, and with desperation and compassion, stroking his hair: Georgie and us have no argument. How could we have an argument, Georgie? We all got hit by the same lightning, how can you . . . ? Did you see what happened to Larry’s tree, Georgie? She has taken his arm, and unwillingly he moves across stage with her. Imagine? While I was dreaming of him in the middle of the night, the wind came along and . . .
All My Sons Page 8