The Salesman What for, why?
Father You know as well as I, man!
Finn Slow down, Father, you've left us behind—
Father
Why, Finn, don't you see, beneath them leather clogs, he's got no toes!
THE MEN gasp.
It's all fused into one! the MEN lean and stare.
Finn
You mean—it's hooves he's got, instead of feet?
The Old Man Hooves?
Father I didn't say that.
The Salesman
No—but you infer it! I will not be cudgeled into displaying my fearful corns and bunions, for that's all that lies hidden there!
Father So you say! Finn!
Finn
Yes, Father?
Father Hang this bit of paper on the wall!
Finn
What is it, Father?
Father Me own sign!
The Salesman Your sign? Now, that ain't right, Father. Unfair competition!
Father . Look at him quail!
The Salesman This ain't quailing. I'm mad!
The Old Man What's it say, Finn?
Finn (peers at the paper) Sic tran—sight—glore—rye—ah—moon—day—
Father (correcting him) Sic transit gloria mundi!
All look at THE SALESMAN.
The Old Man Look, he's gone pale!
The Salesman
I ain't gone anywheres near pale! If anything, the blood pounds in me head!
The Old Man What's it mean?
Father It means we're not long for this world! Post it, Finn.
finn hustles to nail it on the wall.
Finn (squinting) You got a teeny fine hand, Father. You can't see it six inches off!
The Old Man Sick transits, what, what?
Father Gloria mundi!
The Old Man And what does it mean again, Nolan?
Father
Everything passes away! (To the salesman) Including you, sir! Get out, begone! I banish you from Heeber Finn's. I banish you from the streets of our town and the town itself!
The Salesman (backing off)
You do indeed. It's a bunch of holy nitwits from an asylum, the town is, I'll not be back!
Father That you won't.
father leary advances upon the man, who backs to the door.
Get on! Go sell your pagan bits in Kennywell, St. Bridget's and Meynooth!
The Salesman And thanks, I will!
the salesman backs out. The double gates slam-wriggle.
Father Watch out! Don't trip over your tail!
The Old Man (spying out the window) There he goes! He does walk funny!
nolan is at the wall, squinting at the paper.
Nolan (muttering) Sic transit—
All the men look proudly at father leary, who turns to look at them.
finn puts a glass on the bar and fills it. He nods, father leary walks to the bar and looks at the drink.
Finn Thank you, Father.
father leary picks up the drink, eyes it against the light.
Father It's the least I could do, for an annex of the church!
He circles his drink to take in the whole of the pub. He downs the drink.
Well, now!
He walks back to the door.
The Old Man
Father! Was it wise to tell him to go sell his heathen signs to other towns?
Father
Ah, that's not my problem. That's the problem of the good fathers in Kennywell, St. Bridget's, and Meynooth. It's good in a way that the Devil passes by and gives us a whack and a shake and wakes us up. If I had my mind, the Fiend would make a grand tour of Ireland twice a year!
The Old Man And maybe he does, Father!
Father (muses) Yes. Maybe he does.
Finn Is he gone, now, Father?
FATHER LEARY peers OUt.
Father
The road is empty. Our trial is over. All right, then! Tonight, from seven till nine, the church is open, the booth waiting, and me inside the booth!
Nolan We'll be there, Father!
They hold out their drinks and drink to him.
Father (surprised and pleased) By God, I think you will!
He exits
There is a moment of silence.
Timulty (sighs) Well, this is a day will go down in Kilcock's history.
Casey It was a near thing. I almost went home to the wife . . .
TlMULTY
I almost put in for a job at the pusstoffice.
The Old Man When the Father saved us all.
Timulty (musing)
It will be known as the day the Fiend was thrown out from Heeber Finn's.
The Old Man (nose to the wall, squinting) Sic transit gloria mundi.
Nolan And what's it mean?
The Old Man (flaring) It's Latin, dimwit! That's what it means!
finn has walked slow to the door to look out at the church.
Finn A strange man.
Nolan The salesman?
Finn (shakes head)
Father Leary. Why, I ask myself, why did he tell the salesman to sell the pagan signs in Kennywell, Meynooth, and St. Bridget's? Why? Why?
He turns to look at the others, and at the bar. Slowly, his eyes widen, his eyebrows go up, his mouth makes a smile. Suddenly he gives a great laugh.
Ah-hah! Wife!
his wife appears, arms over her bosom, glaring.
Bring more chairs! A dozen!
The Wife A dozen?
Finn Make it two dozen, three, five! And tables!
His Wife Tables?
Finn By sundown tonight refugees will be pouring in here from—
The Old Man (catching on) Kennywell?
Nolan (enlightened) Meynooth?
Casey And St. Bridget's!
Finn
There's no telling where from, how many, how long! It'll be a grand week end! Woman—Kathleen, sweetheart, have a drink.
She hesitates, softens, takes the drink. He gives her a buss and a pinch, finn raises his glass.
Here's to not stopping, but going on as always and ever, with no consideration for one dainty moment about thinking and no doing save as how we always done. Casey, Nolan, Timulty, lend a hand!
Nolan It's lent!
The men rush in and out bringing tables and chairs, finn, in the flurry, pours a line of little glasses full. On their way in and out the men grab and swallow, hurry on.
Finn (sings) "In life, in strife, With maid, with wife! It's the drinkin' . . . !"
The Old Man (speaks, running) "Not the thinkin'f"
All (sing) "Makes it go!"
The Curtain falls on the beehive. And . . .
THE END
The Anthem Sprinters
CHARACTERS
THE YOUNG MAN (DOUGLAS)
HEEBER FINN
THE OLD MAN
TIMULTY
DOONE
o'gavin
FOGARTY
NOLAN
KELLY
casey, peevey, and other assorted spectators, door-watchers, time-keepers and jormer champions of the Sprint.
At the rise of curtain we find ourselves not so much in a real pub as in a sort of a sketch of a pub. A plank laid across two high saw-horses will do for a bar. Men are lined up, or rather clustered, at it, having a fine pantomime argument about something, shaking each other's shoulders, waving their hands, pulling their hats off and on their heads, yanking at one another's lapels, pounding their fists on the bar, and shouting silently, almost nose-to-nose. As the lights come up, so does the sound of the men, as if theatrically we were tuning in on the wildlife here. Four or five of the men are having the greatest to-do there at the rail. Two other men, down front, are Indian-wrestling each other. Two more are playing darts, hurling the feathered things through space at a target suspended far to one side. To the left a man in a bowler hat sits on a piano stool playing a tune on empty space. Though the piano is not there, we can hear it fine. It is a jolly tune. So jolly th
at one of the men in the argument breaks off, unable to resist, and jogs about a bit. Still another fellow somewhere in all the melee is munching on a harmonica, his eyes soulfully shut and the banshee mourn of the little machine in his mouth rising and falling in the smoke and din. An ardent fan of his stands near, aching with the melody, mouth open, watching the great musician tongue and wheeze along the contraption. In all, there are a dozen or so people littered about the scene. More can be added. Or if need be, some might be taken away and never missed.
Anyway, here we are in Heeber Finn's and FINN himself behind the bar, singing any tune that strikes his fancy as he wipes glasses and foams up drinks, adding his own musical bit to the general commotion.
It is a scene rather like the tumult on a pinball device when the jackpot is struck, all the lights flash, miniature guns explode, fantastic totals jump about on the Scoreboard, and all the balls at once seem to rush wild down the ways.
Into this grand scene now walks our writer-hero, or for a time anyway, villain, the young man. He is not a nasty snob, he is just unfamiliar with things and, like it or not, he looks just a bit like a Tourist.
With his entrance, some of the activity, or at least the sound of it, fades down.
the young man stands dead-center of the action and looks about, tolerantly amused. We hear a few of the cries more clearly now from some of the men arguing at the bar.
The Men {general hubbub) Doone! O'Gavin!
Devil take O'Gavin!
Then Devil Take Doone! He's no Sport at all! Now—
O'Gavin
At which point the young man gathers his observations and makes his fatal comment.
The Young Man Well! It sure looks like a wild night, here!
It is as if the great blade of the Guillotine had fallen. Silence chops across all. the young man is instantly sorry. Almost in midflight, the feathered dart is shot down. The piano stops. The harmonica dies in midwheeze. The dancer seems suddenly crippled. Nobody has turned yet to look at the young man. Perhaps they are only waiting for this outlander to pack his chagrin and go away. They will give him enough time. Count to ten. the young man looks around, looks at the door, debates heading for it, but stops.
For one man, timulty, has broken from the mob at the bar and now slowly stalks out, not looking at douglas, only turning to survey him steadily after he has come full in front of him, his glass of stout in his hand.
He drinks from the glass, eyeing douglas. douglas fidgets. At last, timulty speaks.
TlMULTY
Was that said in scorn or admiration?
The Young Man
I really can't say
TlMULTY
There's a confusion in your mind then?
The Young Man (eagerly grasping this) Yes, that's it!
TlMULTY turns to glance all about.
TlMULTY
He's confused, boys!
There is a general murmur neither for nor against, in answer to this, timulty turns back.
Are you new to Ireland, to Dublin, and to Heeber Finn's pub?
The Young Man Er—all three of those, yes!
Timulty (to his friends) He's new to all three, boys!
There is a little more affirmative rumble now, exclamations of "Oh" and "Ah well, then" and "So that's how it is" mix with the rest, timulty views douglas again.
So it's an orientation program you're in search of?
The Young Man That's it!
timulty eyes him a moment longer, then waves once, idly, to his friends.
Timulty All right, boys!
The tumult and the shouting that had died, without the captains and the kings departing, now instantaneously renews itself. Darts fly. The piano sounds. The harmonica wails. The men jump hip deep into their argumentation.
douglas views this, impressed, as if suddenly given to see the vast workings of Big Ben's machinery going full blast.
Timulty's my name.
The Young Man Douglas.
Timulty Is it a wild night you're looking for?
The Young Man Well, I—
Timulty You think, don't you, there are no Wild Nights in Ireland?
The Young Man
I didn't say that
Timulty
You think it. It shows in your eyes. Well, what would you say if I told you you was at the eye of the hurricane! You're in the damn earthquake, half-buried to your chin and don't know it!
The Young Man Ami?
Timulty
You are! Here at Finn's pub is the Central Betting Agency for the greatest Sporting Event of Local Consequence!
The Young Man Is it?
Timulty 'Tis! Listen! Do you hear?
The Men (yelling again) Two bob says you're wrong! Three bob nails you to the wall!
Timulty (calling over) Men, what do you think of Doone?
Fogarty His reflex is uncanny!
The Old Man Doone hell! My money is on O'Gavin! What a Great Heart!
The Young Man A Sporting Event, you say?
Timulty Come along! Boys, this is Mr. Douglas, from the States.
General greetings.
Timulty Mr. Douglas is in—
The Young Man Pictures. I write screenplays for the cinema.
All Fillums!
The Young Man (modestly) Films.
Timulty No! It's too much!
The Old Man Are you staggered, Timulty?
Timulty I am!
Fogarty Coincidence!
Nolan Beyond belief!
The Young Man (blinks) What is?
The Old Man
Your occupation and our Sporting Event! They're in the same bed!
FOGARTY
They're twins!
Timulty
By God now, you'll not only bet, we'll let you judge! Are you much for sports? Do you know, for instance, such things as the cross-country, four-forty, and like man-on-foot excursions?
The Young Man I've attended two Olympic Games.
The Old Man (awed) Not just fillums, but the World Competition!
Timulty
Well, now, isn't it time you knew of the special all-Irish decathlon event which has to do with picture theatres?
The Young Man
The Old Man Shall we show him, boys?
All
Sure! Fine! On the way! Stand aside!
Finn Out it is! This way! Doone, come on!
And before Douglas can protest, bang! they are out the door, the pub has vanished, and they run circling through a sort of mist, doone, who, it turns out, is the man who has been playing the invisible piano, turns last of all and, dancing around on his toes, pumping his legs like a trackman to prime himself, exits last of all, and soon catches, paces, and fronts the mob.
Finn Doone! Doone! There you are!
Doone Does an Event loom?
The Old Man It does!
Doone (dancing ahead) I'm fit!
The Old Man You are!
Timulty There! We've arrived!
They pull up. the young man gazes around, still not certain what to look for.
The Old Man Will you read that?
A marquee with blinking lights has come on above them.
The Young Man The . . . Great . . . Fine . . . Arts . . . Cinema.
Timulty Don't forget "Elite." It's there. But it's burnt out.
timulty throws his cap up to hit the marquee. The missing word lights feebly and flickeringly.
The Young Man The GreatE/J Fine Arts Elite Cinema Theatre.
FOGARTY
We have a name for everything, do we not?
Timulty If the Arts need being Greater or Finer, this is where you come.
Nolan Ah, look at the lights move, will ya?
Timulty Like the fireflies on the meadows with the sun just set.
The Old Man {nudges the writer) Did you hear him?
The Young Man Eh?
The Old Man
Well, I mean to say, are you a writer or not? I mean, don't writers make notes of lovely things l
ike that to put in their next book?
The Young Man Er ... yes ...
the young man takes out a pad and pencil sheepishly. Everyone leans over his shoulder to see the words go down.
Timulty {quoting himself) "Like the fireflies . . ."
Nolan ". . . on the bogs . . ."
Timulty
"Meadows," ya dimwit! "On the meadows . . ." That's it. "With the sun . . ."
The Young Man {writing) ". . . just set."
TlMULTY
There! (Sighs) I'm immortal.
The Old Man Enough! We are at the place of the grand sport!
The Young Man (dubious) The Greater Fine Arts Elite Cinema Theatre?
Fogarty
Why not? Look, there's three churches in Ireland. There's them whose faith is the pubs, them whose faith is the cinemas, and then there's the Catholics.
The Old Man There's always a place to go.
The Young Man
Yes, but what sport can you put in a theatre? Ping pong, basketball onstage?
TlMULTY
Doone, step forward!
doone, who has been darting about on tiptoe, snorting, snuffing, dances in.
Doone Doone, that's me! The Best Anthem Sprinter in Ireland!
The Young Man What sprinter?
Doone (spells with difficulty) A-n-t-h-e-m. Anthem. Sprinter. The fastest. (Bobs)
Finn Since you've been in Dublin, have you attended the cinema?
The Young Man
Just once, but in London last month, I saw eight films
TlMULTY
You're fanatic, then, as are we all, through need, on this godforsaken desert!
The Old Man
In London, if you'll excuse the curse, when the fillum stopped each night, did you observe anything tending towards the peculiar?
The Young Man (muses) Hold on! You can't mean "God Save The Queen," can you?
TlMULTY Can we, boys?
All
We can!
The Old Man
In London, it's "God Save The Queen," here it's the National Anthem, it's all the same!
TlMULTY
Any night, every night, for tens of dreadful years, at the end of each damn fillum all over Ireland, in every cinema, as if you'd never heard the baleful tune before, the orchestra strikes up for Ireland!
The Old Man (nudges the writer) And what happens then?
The Young Man (muses)
Why ... if you're any man at all, you try to get out of the theatre in those few precious moments between the end of the film and the start of the Anthem.
TlMULTY He's nailed it!
Bradbury, Ray - SSC 10 Page 7