Read Online Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes: Revised and Complete Edition by Tony Kushner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tony Kushner
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and hands it to Roy.)
JOE (A little stiff, formal) : Roy I really appreciate your telling me this, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.
ROY (Holding up a hand, then, carefully) : I’ll tell you what you can do.
I’m about to be tried, Joe, by a jury that is not a jury of my peers. The disbarment committee: genteel gentlemen Brahmin lawyers, country-club men. I offend them, to these men I’m what, Martin? Some sort of filthy little Jewish troll?
MARTIN (With an embarrassed laugh) : Oh well, I wouldn’t go so far as—
ROY (Imitating the laugh) : Oh well I would.
Very fancy lawyers, these disbarment committee lawyers, fancy lawyers with fancy corporate clients and complicated cases. Antitrust suits. Deregulation. Environmental control. Complex cases like these need Justice Department cooperation like flowers need the sun. Wouldn’t you say that’s an accurate assessment, Martin?
MARTIN : I’m not here, Roy. I’m not hearing any of this.
ROY : No. Of course not.
Without the light of the sun, Joe, these cases, and the fancy lawyers who represent them, will wither and die.
A well-placed friend, someone in the Justice Department, say, can turn off the sun. Cast a deep shadow on my behalf. Make them shiver in the cold. If they overstep. They would fear that.
(Pause.)
JOE : Roy. I don’t understand.
ROY : You do.
(Pause.)
JOE : You’re not asking me to—
ROY : Sssshhhh. Careful.
JOE (A beat, then) : Even if I said yes to the job, it would be illegal to interfere. With the hearings. It’s unethical. No. I can’t.
ROY : Un-ethical.
Would you excuse us, Martin?
MARTIN : Excuse you?
ROY : Take a walk, Martin. For real.
(Martin hesitates, then stands. He shoots Joe a quick “you just stepped in it” look, then leaves.)
ROY : Un-ethical. Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my friend?
JOE : Well it is unethical, I can’t—
ROY : Boy, you are really something, what the fuck do you think this is, Sunday school?
JOE : No, but Roy this is—
ROY : This is—this is gastric juices churning, this is enzymes and acids, this is intestinal is what this is, bowel movement and blood-red meat! This stinks, this is politics , Joe, the game of being alive. And you think you’re . . . What? Above that? Above alive is what? Dead! In the clouds! You’re on earth, goddamnit! Plant a foot, stay a while.
I’m sick. They smell I’m weak. They want blood this time. I must have eyes in Justice. In Justice you will protect me.
JOE : Why can’t Mr. Heller—
ROY : Grow up, Joe. The administration can’t get involved.
JOE : But I’d be part of the administration. The same as him.
ROY : Not the same. Martin’s Ed’s man. And Ed’s Reagan’s man. So Martin’s Reagan’s man.
And you’re mine.
(Little pause. He holds up the letter)
This will never be. Understand me?
(He tears up the letter)
I’m gonna be a lawyer, Joe, I’m gonna be a lawyer, Joe, I’m gonna be a goddamn motherfucking legally licensed member of the bar lawyer, just like my daddy was, till my last bitter day on earth, Joseph, until the day I die.
(Martin returns.)
ROY : Ah, Martin’s back.
MARTIN : So are we agreed?
ROY : Joe?
(Little pause.)
JOE : I will think about it.
(To Roy) I will.
ROY (A beat, then, contemplatively) : Huh.
MARTIN : It’s the fear of what comes after the doing that makes the doing hard to do.
ROY : Amen.
MARTIN : But you can almost always live with the consequences.
Scene 7
That afternoon. On the granite steps outside the Hall of Justice, Brooklyn. It is cold and sunny. A Sabrett wagon is selling hot dogs. Louis, in a shabby overcoat, is sitting on the steps contemplatively eating one. Joe enters with three hot dogs and a can of Coke .
JOE : Can I . . .?
LOUIS : Oh sure. Sure. Crazy cold sun.
JOE (Sitting) : Have to make the best of it.
How’s
JOE (A little stiff, formal) : Roy I really appreciate your telling me this, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.
ROY (Holding up a hand, then, carefully) : I’ll tell you what you can do.
I’m about to be tried, Joe, by a jury that is not a jury of my peers. The disbarment committee: genteel gentlemen Brahmin lawyers, country-club men. I offend them, to these men I’m what, Martin? Some sort of filthy little Jewish troll?
MARTIN (With an embarrassed laugh) : Oh well, I wouldn’t go so far as—
ROY (Imitating the laugh) : Oh well I would.
Very fancy lawyers, these disbarment committee lawyers, fancy lawyers with fancy corporate clients and complicated cases. Antitrust suits. Deregulation. Environmental control. Complex cases like these need Justice Department cooperation like flowers need the sun. Wouldn’t you say that’s an accurate assessment, Martin?
MARTIN : I’m not here, Roy. I’m not hearing any of this.
ROY : No. Of course not.
Without the light of the sun, Joe, these cases, and the fancy lawyers who represent them, will wither and die.
A well-placed friend, someone in the Justice Department, say, can turn off the sun. Cast a deep shadow on my behalf. Make them shiver in the cold. If they overstep. They would fear that.
(Pause.)
JOE : Roy. I don’t understand.
ROY : You do.
(Pause.)
JOE : You’re not asking me to—
ROY : Sssshhhh. Careful.
JOE (A beat, then) : Even if I said yes to the job, it would be illegal to interfere. With the hearings. It’s unethical. No. I can’t.
ROY : Un-ethical.
Would you excuse us, Martin?
MARTIN : Excuse you?
ROY : Take a walk, Martin. For real.
(Martin hesitates, then stands. He shoots Joe a quick “you just stepped in it” look, then leaves.)
ROY : Un-ethical. Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my friend?
JOE : Well it is unethical, I can’t—
ROY : Boy, you are really something, what the fuck do you think this is, Sunday school?
JOE : No, but Roy this is—
ROY : This is—this is gastric juices churning, this is enzymes and acids, this is intestinal is what this is, bowel movement and blood-red meat! This stinks, this is politics , Joe, the game of being alive. And you think you’re . . . What? Above that? Above alive is what? Dead! In the clouds! You’re on earth, goddamnit! Plant a foot, stay a while.
I’m sick. They smell I’m weak. They want blood this time. I must have eyes in Justice. In Justice you will protect me.
JOE : Why can’t Mr. Heller—
ROY : Grow up, Joe. The administration can’t get involved.
JOE : But I’d be part of the administration. The same as him.
ROY : Not the same. Martin’s Ed’s man. And Ed’s Reagan’s man. So Martin’s Reagan’s man.
And you’re mine.
(Little pause. He holds up the letter)
This will never be. Understand me?
(He tears up the letter)
I’m gonna be a lawyer, Joe, I’m gonna be a lawyer, Joe, I’m gonna be a goddamn motherfucking legally licensed member of the bar lawyer, just like my daddy was, till my last bitter day on earth, Joseph, until the day I die.
(Martin returns.)
ROY : Ah, Martin’s back.
MARTIN : So are we agreed?
ROY : Joe?
(Little pause.)
JOE : I will think about it.
(To Roy) I will.
ROY (A beat, then, contemplatively) : Huh.
MARTIN : It’s the fear of what comes after the doing that makes the doing hard to do.
ROY : Amen.
MARTIN : But you can almost always live with the consequences.
Scene 7
That afternoon. On the granite steps outside the Hall of Justice, Brooklyn. It is cold and sunny. A Sabrett wagon is selling hot dogs. Louis, in a shabby overcoat, is sitting on the steps contemplatively eating one. Joe enters with three hot dogs and a can of Coke .
JOE : Can I . . .?
LOUIS : Oh sure. Sure. Crazy cold sun.
JOE (Sitting) : Have to make the best of it.
How’s
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