NORA: My theories! I haven’t any theories! I’m talking about the truth, and the truth is my whole life. I can’t find room for anything but the truth.
GIBSON: Couldn’t you?
NORA: Ah, that’s a man’s egoism! With the whole world seething so that its wrongs should fill every mind — yes, and every heart — until they’re righted, you ask me —
GIBSON: I think you needn’t make it any clearer, Nora; I understand.
NORA [turning away, agitated]: I am glad you do.
[The factory door opens to the impetuous arrival of a workingman of extraordinary size and vehemence, RILEY, a truck driver.]
RILEY [as he opens the door]: See here, Mr. Gibson, fer the love o’ heaven, don’t the truck drivers fer this factory git no consideration?
GIBSON: I don’t know! What do they want?
RILEY: Look here, Mr. Gibson, man to man, every department in this factory is makin’ demands and goin’ to walk out if they don’t git ’em. Ain’t we got no chance fer no demands?
GIBSON: I said: What do you want?
RILEY: Why, we got grievances been hangin’ over I don’t know how long!
GIBSON: What are they?
RILEY: Why, all them other departments is going to git raises. You don’t think fer a minute the truck drivers ain’t going to —
GIBSON: How much raise do you want?
RILEY: Sir?
GIBSON: How much raise do you want?
RILEY: I can’t jest say right this minute. We jest heard what was goin’ on in the other departments, and we ain’t had no meetin’ to settle just what raise we are goin’ to git. Now, Mr. Gibson, if I was runnin’ this factory —
GIBSON: Well, what would you do?
RILEY: The first thing I’d do, I’d see that the truck drivers didn’t have no more discontent than nobody else. What becomes of your freight if you can’t run no trucks? You got to look out, Mr. Gibson! It’s us got the upper hand.
GIBSON: Go call your meeting and find out what raise you’re going to strike for.
RILEY: Yes, sir; I’ll do it. [He goes out quickly.]
NORA: [amazed and rather gentle]: Are you going to give them what they want?
GIBSON: No; I only wanted to get rid of him a minute to think — or try to.
NORA [in a low voice, offended]: Oh, excuse me! [She is going out.]
GIBSON: Stay here! [He seems to approach a decision — one of desperation and anger. Then he speaks crisply, but more to himself than to NORA.] All right — they get it! [Looks up at NORA, gives her a frowning stare of some duration.] Tell Riley to call off his meeting, please. I want all those spokesmen for the departments here. I’ll give them their answer now.
[NORA looks at him, puzzled, bites her lip, and goes out quickly into the factory. GIBSON’S expression is determined; so is his action. He goes to the wall, brings two chairs, one in each hand, places them at the large table. Repeats this until he has chairs placed at the table on both sides and at the head as if for a directors’ meeting. The door opens and SALVATORE, MIFFLIN, CARTER, RILEY, SHOMBERG, FRANKEL, and SIMPSON enter. They come in, speaking together; most of them talking somewhat ominously.]
CROWD: Well, he better!… We ain’t workin’ for our health…. My whole department’ll walk out!… You bet your life we’re goin’ to!… He needn’t kid himself about our not meaning business!
FRANKEL: Well, Mr. Gibson, we’d like to know what conclusion you come to.
GIBSON: I’m going to tell you. Simpson, please ask Miss Gorodna to step in.
[SIMPSON merely looks out of the door, and NORA comes in
quickly.]
Carter, take that chair at the head of the table. Frankel, Salvatore, Shomberg, sit there, and there, and there! Riley, sit there. Simpson, there! Miss Gorodna, will you please sit here? [They take the seats he indicates, but they look puzzled, somewhat perturbed; whisper and murmur to one another.] Thank you! There! That looks like a directors’ tables doesn’t it?
SALVATORE: What’s this all about?
GIBSON: I want to ask you people if any of you ever knew me to break my word to you?
FRANKEL: Oh, no, Mr. Gibson, we know you never break your agreements!
GIBSON: I want to ask you people: Haven’t you found my word as good as my bond?
CARTER: Why, yes, Mr. Gibson.
SIMPSON: Sure! We know you’ll do what you say.
GIBSON: Do you all agree to that?
SALVATORE: Soit’nly! You’re a gentleman.
RILEY: Sure, we agree to it!
SHOMBERG: Oh, well, prob’ly so.
GIBSON: All right! I’m going to do something you don’t expect, and I want you to know I mean it. But before I do it I want to tell you something. Probably you won’t understand it, but for a long time I had a pride in this factory. Building up The Gibson Upright was really the pride of my life. To do that I knew I had to have a loyal staff of workmen, and for that reason if no other I have given you shorter hours and more pay than the men get in any other factory of this kind that I know of. I’ve done everything that can be done to make the shops healthy and light and clean. I certainly haven’t been unfriendly to you personally. Any man in the factory was free to come in that door to talk to me any time he wanted to. I’ve done my best and we’ve been called the model factory. I’ve done my best but — it isn’t enough. It never has been enough. And I’ve been told it never will be enough [with a glance at NORA] until the wage system has been abolished — until capital has been abolished and the parasite destroyed! I say I took a pride in the factory for years! Now I am no longer able to. I can’t take a pride in a squabble, and that’s all this factory has come to be. And I’ll tell you frankly — you men feel you’d like to get rid of me; well, I want to get rid of you. And I intend to!
SHOMBERG [fiercely]: You goin’ to close this factory down?
GIBSON: No; I’m going to give it to you!
SEVERAL WORKMEN: What!
GIBSON [emphatically]: I’m going to give it to you! I turn it over to you, here and now. This property is mine, but the use of it is yours. Don’t you understand? You’ve said yourselves my word is as good as my bond. Well, the factory is yours. I’m going to get away from it. You take it and run it.
[He gets his hat and coat.]
SIMPSON: What in thunder does he mean?
SALVATORE: Say, what’s the game?
GIBSON: There it is! Take it and run it yourselves, for yourselves. It belongs to every workman in the factory on equal shares. [Throws keys on table.] There are the keys of the safe, and the combination’s in the top drawer of that desk. It’s all yours as it stands, down to the very correspondence on that table, without any let, hindrance, or interference from me.
FRANKEL [hoarsely]: Say! He means it!
SALVATORE: All the money ours?
GIBSON: The money for every piano you make and sell is yours — every cent of it.
MIFFLIN [rising transfigured]: Gentlemen, a glorious time has come! This is an example to every employer of labour in our land. I thank that power which destined all men to be equal both in service and reward that I should have chanced to be present to see such a splendid band of forward-looking fellows — of brothers, of comrades — come into their own! Let us hope that this great moment but marks the beginning of an epoch when every capitalist and manufacturer shall see the light as Mr. Gibson has just done.
As spokesman for these — these men, Mr. Gibson, I would congratulate you for anticipating the inevitable and certain world future! You have done well for yourself to perceive it. I am sure on that account you leave here with their respect. And to you I should think it might be some relief —
GIBSON: Relief? I should think it might! And you can translate that into your nineteen languages and dialects — including the Scandinavian! As for you men — you wouldn’t work for me — now see if you can work for yourselves! Good-bye, Miss Gorodna!
[NORA, who has been looking at him tensely, inclines her head slightly.
He opens the door that leads to the street and goes out decisively. There are exclamations from everyone, loud but awed. “Say, look here, look here, look here!”
“Give it to us!” “Equal shares! Did you hear what he said?”
“Gosh! Is this the end of the world?” “My wife won’t believe
it!”]
MIFFLIN: Gentlemen, this factory comes into the possession of every workman in it on equal terms; each has a like share in the profits. At last the workman owns his tools.
FRANKEL [suddenly, as if light had just come]: Gibson’s crazy!
MIFFLIN: No, no! He saw the writing on the wall!
NORA [as if entranced, her eyes to heaven]: Isn’t it wonderful — wonderful!
MIFFLIN [beaming]: But we mustn’t forget that it entails responsibilities.
NORA: We mustn’t forget that.
[The telephone bell rings. They all turn their heads in silence and look at it, MIFFLIN watching them, benevolently chuckling. The bell rings again.]
CARTER [blankly]: The telephone is ringin’.
MIFFLIN: Well, answer it, answer it!
SIMPSON: Who?
MIFFLIN: Why, you — any of you. It’s yours — it’s your telephone.
SIMPSON: You answer it, Carter.
[CARTER goes to the telephone and picks it up in a somewhat gingerly way.]
CARTER: Hello!… Yes…. Yes, it’s The Gibson Upright…. No, he ain’t here…. What? Wait a minute. [Puts his hand over the mouthpiece.] He wants to know who it is talking.
FRANKEL: My goodness! Can’t you tell him it’s you?
CARTER: He wouldn’t know who that was.
MIFFLIN: Tell him it’s one of the owners of the company.
CARTER [looks at MIFFLIN solemnly; then in a hushed voice]: It’s one of the owners of the company…. Wait a minute; let me get that. “The Central Associated Lumber Companies?” I hear you. Wait a minute. [Looks round.] This here company says they want to lower their bid for a couple hundred thousand feet o’ lumber to forty-seven dollars a thousand. They say that’s a dollar lower than they offered yesterday and a half a dollar lower than they offered this morning — says got to know now.
FRANKEL: Says they come down to forty-seven, do they?
CARTER: Yes; says so!
SIMPSON: Well, tell ’em that’s good; we’ll take it.
THE OTHERS: Sure, that’s right!… That’s a good offer…. Sure, we’ll take it!
CARTER [at the telephone]: We’ll take it. [Pause.] You’re welcome.
[Puts down the telephone amid general buzz from all the others. They rise somewhat dazedly, but relaxing, beginning to take in their surroundings in the new life. SHOMBERG and SIMPSON shake hands. FRANKEL goes over and examines the safe. SALVATORE picks up a basket of correspondence from the desk as if it were a strange bug. SHOMBERG opens a drawer in the table. There is a buzz of congratulative, formless talk. They spread over the stage, looking at everything.]
MIFFLIN [transfigured, his right hand lifted]: Gentlemen, this is the
New Dawn!
ACT II
THE YARD BESIDE GIBSON’S house. Upon our left is seen the porch or sun-room wing of a good “colonial” house of the present type. A hedge runs across at the back, about five feet high, with a gateway and rustic gate. Beyond is seen a residential suburban quarter, well wooded and with ample shrubberies. A gravelled path leads from the gate to the porch, or sun-room, where are broad steps. Upon the lawn are a white garden bench, a table, and a great green-and-white-striped sun umbrella, with several white garden chairs.
Autumn has come, and the foliage is beginning to turn; but the scene is warm and sunlit.
After a moment a young housemaid brings out a tray with a chocolate pot, wafers, and one cup and saucer and a lace-edged napkin. She places the tray on the table, moves a chair to it, looks at the tray thoughtfully, turns, starts toward the house — when GIBSON comes out. He wears a travelling suit and is bareheaded.
ELLA: The cook thought you might like a cup of chocolate after a long trip like that — just getting off the train and all, Mr. Gibson.
GIBSON: Thank you, Ella, I should.
ELLA: I’ll bring your mail right out.
[She goes into the house and returns with a packet of letters.]
GIBSON: Thanks, Ella!
ELLA: Everything is there that’s come since you sent the telegram not to forward any more.
GIBSON: It’s pleasant to find the house and everything just as I left it.
ELLA: My, Mr. Gibson, we pretty near thought you wasn’t never coming back. Those June roses in that bed round yonder lasted pretty near up into August this year, Mr. Gibson. For that matter it’s such mild weather even yet some say we won’t have any fall till Thanksgiving.
GIBSON: Yes, it’s extraordinary.
ELLA: Shall I leave the tray?
GIBSON: No; you can take it. [She moves to do so.] Wait a minute. Here’s a letter from John Riley, up at the factory. Don’t I remember his son Tom coming here to see you quite a good deal?
ELLA: Yes, sir; Tom’s one of the factory truckmen like his father. He still comes to see me quite a good deal, sir. There isn’t anything about that in the letter, is there, sir? [She knows there isn’t.]
GIBSON [absently]: No, no! [With faint irony.] He only wants to know about where to get a stock of truck parts that had been ordered before I broke connections with the factory. He thinks four months is a long time for them to be on the way and doesn’t know where to write.
ELLA: He’s a terrible active man, Mr. Riley. Always pushing.
GIBSON: So Tom comes round more than ever, does he?
ELLA [coyly]: He does, sir!
GIBSON: I’m not going to lose you, am I, Ella?
ELLA: Well, sir, up to the time of that change in the factory we hadn’t expected we could get married for maybe two years yet, but the way things are now — not that I want to leave here, sir — but it does look like going right ahead with the wedding!
GIBSON: Tom feels that prosperous, does he?
ELLA: I guess he is prosperous, sir!
GIBSON [gravely digesting this]: Well, I suppose I’m glad to hear it.
ELLA: Yes, sir; everybody’s glad these days up at the factory, sir. I don’t mean about just Tom and me, they’re glad.
GIBSON: You mean they’re all in a glad condition?
ELLA: Oh, are they, sir! Even the Commiskeys got an automobile last month!
GIBSON: Well, I suppose that’s splendid.
ELLA: Didn’t you know about it, sir?
GIBSON: No, not a word. I’ve been pretty deep up in the Maine woods this summer. Have you been over to the factory at all yourself, Ella?
ELLA: Yes, sir; visitors can go round just as they like to. They’re glad to have you.
GIBSON: When you’ve been over there, Ella — you know which one is Miss
Gorodna, don’t you?
ELLA: Oh, yes, sir! She’s one of the best in managing, Miss Gorodna.
GIBSON: You — did you — have you happened to see her?
ELLA: Yes, sir, once or twice.
GIBSON: Did she — ah — did she look overworked?
ELLA: Oh, I shouldn’t say so, sir.
GIBSON: She looked well, then?
ELLA: Yes, indeed, sir! Everybody’s so happy up there; I don’t suppose none of ’em could look happier than she is, sir!
GIBSON: They are all happy, then?
ELLA [laughing joyfully]: You never see such times in your life, sir! [A bell rings in the house.] I’ll answer the bell.
GIBSON: I’ve finished this, Ella.
ELLA: Yes, sir. [She takes the tray and goes into the house. GIBSON opens another letter, reads it. ELLA returns.]
ELLA: It’s Mr. Mifflin, sir.
GIBSON: All right.
[MIFFLIN, beaming and bubbling, more radiant than in Act 1, but dressed as then except for a change of tie, comes from the house. He carries his umbrella and hat and the same old magazines a
nd a newspaper.]
MIFFLIN: Ah, Mr. Gibson, you couldn’t stay away any longer!
GIBSON: How de do! Sit down!
MIFFLIN [effervescing, as they sit]: It’s glorious! I heard from your household you were expected back this Sunday. Now confess! You couldn’t stay away! You had to come and watch it!
GIBSON: Well, I’ve not had to come and watch it for four months. I don’t expect to watch it much, now.
MIFFLIN: You don’t mean to sit there and tell me you don’t know anything about it!
GIBSON: No; I don’t know anything about it.
MIFFLIN: Mr. Gibson, you’re an extraordinary man!
GIBSON: No, I’m not. What I did was extraordinary, but I was only an ordinary man pushed into a hole.
MIFFLIN: Oh, no; surrendering the factory was merely normal. What’s remarkable is your staying away from watching the glorious work these former hireling workmen of your factory are doing, now they’ve won their industrial freedom. Myself, I’ve taken rooms near by: I started to do one article; now I have a series. And oh, the glory of watching these comrades with their economic shackles off! Haven’t you heard anything of our success?
GIBSON: Only a word from my housemaid.
MIFFLIN [delightedly, pinning him]: Aha! There! What did she say?
“Only a word”; but what was IT?
GIBSON: It indicated — prosperity.
MIFFLIN: Ah! Immense prosperity, didn’t it?
GIBSON: I suppose so. Success, at any rate.
MIFFLIN: Success? It’s so magnificent that now it’s inevitable for every factory of every kind all over this country.
GIBSON: All over the country?
MIFFLIN: Not only all over this country! The world must do it. Ah, they’ve done it in a country larger than this already! And these comrades right here are showing our country what it means. I don’t begrudge you some credit for having begun it, Mr. Gibson. But you only anticipated what all owners everywhere are going to have to do before the workmen simply take the factories. They’re going to take them because they have the inherent right; and they’re going to take them now, either by direct action or by the technical owners, like yourself, seeing the handwriting on the wall.
GIBSON: What do you mean by direct action?
Collected Works of Booth Tarkington Page 538