IF YOU COULD SEE: THE ALICE AUSTEN STORY (Excerpt)
Book & Lyrics By Jeffrey Harper, Music By Louis Tucci (Additional Music By Jeffrey Harper)
OVERTURE
(CUE MUSIC: OVERTURE)
ACT 1
ACT 1, SCENE 1 – ALICE IN THE POOR FARM, 1951
(The hospital ward of the Staten Island Farm Colony – the “Poor Farm” – 1951. OLIVER JENSEN, middle-aged, elegant, tentatively enters stage left, carrying an artist’s portfolio. He meets VICKERS, a female attendant, about to exit.)
JENSEN
Miss Austen’s room – end of the hall?
VICKERS
Pal, this is the Poor Farm. Same room as everybody – last bed on the right.
JENSEN
How is she today?
VICKERS
No idea. Try same as every day. Mute. Incontinent. Impossible. Pick one, all three… Need an introduction?
JENSEN
Well –
VICKERS
(Walking away, exiting, stage left)
Didn’t think so.
(JENSEN crosses stage left. Bare light bulbs hang above a row of beds. LOUD TABLE RADIOS play scratchy AM radio music of the period. He’s assaulted by the vile smells, the filth, the disorder. As he arrives stage right, a bare hanging bulb lights up above ALICE, 85, sitting up in bed, motionless, under a filthy sheet. She stares straight ahead. JENSEN approaches the bed. She does not notice his presence. JENSEN stares at her, trying to reconcile this decrepit, unkempt woman with the images of her in his mind. Pause.)
JENSEN
Miss Austen?
(No response)
Excuse me, madam, are you Alice Austen?
(No response)
I’m Oliver Jensen. I’ve been looking to find your photographs – and you. I admire your work immensely –
(Looking around, finding no chair)
May I sit down?
(ALICE stares ahead. JENSEN sits on the edge of her bed, opens his portfolio.)
I was an editor at Life magazine, but now I’m writing a book about American women – important American women. We’d like to publish several of your photographs.
(ALICE blinks. Something registers. But she stares ahead.)
(JENSEN opens the portfolio. On the scrim on stage, hazy, flickering black and white images – selections of ALICE’s photographs – though it’s unclear if what we’re seeing are the pictures in JENSEN’s portfolio or ALICE’s mind. Finally, the IMAGES start to solidify: a rag-picker on the Lower East Side; The Catskills; the Chicago Colombian Exhibition; Clear Comfort, Aunt Minn, Uncle Peter, Alice’s mother, and then Gertrude Tate as a young woman. MUSIC fades.)
ALICE
Gertrude.
JENSEN
You’re Gertrude? – or the woman in the photograph?
(ALICE is silent, in thought.)
You are Elizabeth Alice Austen?
(No response)
Elizabeth Alice Austen…Munn?
(ALICE’s eyes flicker on JENSEN’s face. Then, from her withered voice, she delivers an order.)
ALICE
You will never use that man’s name in my presence – ever.
(She stares ahead. Pause)
ALICE (CONT'D)
I am…Alice Austen.
(A beat. She looks at the photograph)
Gertrude didn’t come with you?
JENSEN
No. Who’s Gertrude?
(ALICE smiles weakly, says nothing. JENSEN shows her another series of photographs that appear on the scrim: Clear Comfort – Alice’s long lost home on the shore of Staten Island. A picture appears of a house party – men in suits, women in dresses. ALICE reaches out and touches the portfolio, touches the edge of the photograph, moved. A spark of energy emerges within her. )
ALICE
Julia Bredt was so cross with me –
JENSEN
Oh?
ALICE
They all were!
JENSEN
I see –
ALICE
Nonsense. You think I’m doddering –
JENSEN
No –
ALICE
I am doddering. At my age I’ve earned that right.
(Privately amused)
It’s all I ever earned.
(A beat)
What you can’t see is their impatience because I took so long to take their picture. I always took my time. Now time takes me!
JENSEN
Of course –
ALICE
“Of course” nothing! Do you always agree in such submissive fashion? That must make your wife very happy.
JENSEN
It does – when I do. Perhaps I should have tried that with my previous wives.
ALICE
Did you ever notice that a successful marriage requires joint submission to mutual unhappiness?
JENSEN
Yes. Several times.
ALICE
Agreeing again! Thank goodness someone still does. I wouldn’t take the picture until I knew it was absolutely right! And you must suffer everything to get it right! They couldn’t see that. Because they were at a party – that ended long ago.
(Pause. JENSEN stares at her, intrigued. We’re aware of a large table radio on. Alice thumps the cane hanging on her head on the floor)
Martha, turn that radio down or I’ll thrash you with my cane!
(The volume lowers.)
What do you think is worse – the noise or the smell? You can quiet the radio, but… The smell is the worst. Because it’s mine. And it’s always there. Shameful. I’ve dreamt it – my own foul decay.
JENSEN
It’s not so bad.
ALICE
Being lied to is a privilege of age – though not one they observe here.
(Pause. Eyes JENSEN intently. A moment, then directly)
Mr. Jensen: It’s a dirty business, this dying.
(JENSEN reacts)
But you’re not here for me – but for my photographs –
JENSEN
I assure you –
ALICE
I assure you my photographs are the reason you’re here –
JENSEN
Yes, but –
ALICE
Just say “yes.” As long as everyone agreed with me, my life was perfectly beautiful.
JENSEN
As one’s is when everyone agrees and submits.
ALICE
Ah, Mr. Jensen, a little vinegar with your honey. Lovely.
(A beat)
But you’re too late – for the photographs –
JENSEN
I will find them – there are a few, there are more – the Historical Society recovered many –
ALICE
And my house? You know it? We called it Clear Comfort. Is it there?
JENSEN
Yes, I believe so –
ALICE
After the Crash of ’29, we couldn’t hold on. The bank took it. Saloon keepers moved in.
(ALICE grimaces.)
JENSEN
Are you in pain?
ALICE
Constantly. Therefore not worth discussing. The only things worth discussing are the unseen and inexpressible. The rest is redundant.
(Looking at the photograph)
It was quite a life we lived.
JENSEN
Clearly. Can you tell me about your work during this time?
ALICE
Mr. Jensen, I never talk about work; I talk about life! That’s why photography interested me – because of the life in it, not the work. And I always worked to exhaustion.
(A beat. She looks up from her photograph.)
You pity me.
JENSEN
No, I – Yes. Yes, I do.
ALICE
Don’t. I had a life you could only dream of. A loving family. Servants. A wonderful house on the water. I read. Traveled. Did only what interested me – and – and now…Had I lived a comfortable life I didn’t want…That would be worth your pity, Mr. Jensen.
(MUSIC PLAYS: SONG: “CLEAR COMFORT”)
ALICE:
WATCHING THE STEAMSHIPS PLY THROUGH THE NARROWS
WATCHING MY GRANDFATHER’S RED ROSES BLOOM
GLIDING MY SAILBOAT ACROSS NEW YORK HARBOR
FILLING UP SCRAPBOOKS ALONE IN MY ROOM…
CHORUS:
AND THERE WAS…CLEAR COMFORT.
IT WAS THERE – CLEAR COMFORT.
A LIFE OF CLEAR COMFORT FOR ME.
VERSE:
BISHOPS AND ARTISTS CAME BY TO VISIT
ASTORS AND DODGES STOPPED BY FOR TEA
HENRY THOREAU THRILLED US WITH BRILLIANCE
EVERYONE SHOWED US HOW LIFE OUGHT TO BE
CHORUS:
AND THERE WAS…CLEAR COMFORT.
IT WAS THERE – CLEAR COMFORT.
A LIFE OF CLEAR COMFORT FOR ME.
BRIDGE:
WE READ THE BOOKS THAT SHOULD BE READ
WE SPOKE THE WORDS THAT GREAT MEN SAID
WE LIVED THE LIVES THAT FINE PEOPLE LED
AND GOD HEARD THE PRAYERS WE SAID...
CHORUS:
AND THERE WAS…CLEAR COMFORT.
IT WAS THERE – CLEAR COMFORT.
A LIFE OF CLEAR COMFORT FOR ME.
VICKERS
Alice, you got your whatever, appointment, meeting. Doc’s waiting.
ALICE:
THEN THE NEW MONEY CAME WITH THEIR MILLIONS
LOADED WITH FORTUNES FROM IRON AND BEER
VICKERS
(To JENSEN)
Time to blow, friend.
ALICE Singing):
WITH COAL-FUELED MACHINES, A SOOT-SOILED AGE
THE COMFORT WE KNEW SOON TURNED TO FEAR
VICKERS
(To ALICE)
You’re not going to give me trouble, Alice? Are you?
(Music ends)
ALICE
(To JENSEN)
For most of my life I gave orders to servants. Now they order me.
(A beat)
Come again, Mr. Jensen.
(VICKERS moves towards her. To JENSEN)
You will come again, won’t you?
(A beat)
Please.
JENSEN
Yes. Of course. I’ll come back. I’ll keep looking for your photographs – and I will get you out of this place.
ALICE
Careful what you promise, Mr. Jensen.
(VICKERS puts her in the wheel chair and is about to push the wheelchair, but she raises her hand and snaps her fingers with authority so clear it halts VICKERS.)
ALICE (CONT'D)
(To JENSEN)
You thought I was dead.
JENSEN
Yes.
ALICE
Well, you’re half-right. Console yourself with that. Half-truths ease the bitterness of most lives.
JENSEN
Yours too?
ALICE
I’m not bitter, Mr. Jensen. I’m Alice Austen! And you know what I say, Mr. Jensen? Of course not. You don’t even know what I don’t say.
(A beat)
ALICE (CONT'D)
Never say die, Mr. Jensen... Say, “Damn!”
(A beat)
Damn the obstacles! Damn the consequences! Damn it all! It’s all taken away before we are!
(She laughs acidly as the VICKERS pushes her away. Lights fade. As ALICE is wheeled away, the set transforms to St. George, Staten Island, 1949 and the apartment of ALICE Austen, 83, and her life partner GERTRUDE TATE, 68.)
(CUE MUSIC : REPRISE CLEAR COMFORT MELODY)
ACT 1, SCENE 2 – STATEN ISLAND, 1949, ALICE AND GERTRUDE IN POVERTY
(St. George, Staten Island, 1949. The apartment of ALICE Austen, 83, and her life partner GERTRUDE TATE, 68. The apartment is shabby, sparsely furnished. They are impoverished, on the brink of total destitution. ALICE, withered, crippled with arthritis, sits on the couch.
CUE PHOTOGRAPHS: A MONTAGE OF ALICE’S PHOTOGRAPHS: Parties at ALICE AUSTEN’s family home – called Clear Comfort – Austen family members, immigrants, the Chicago World’s Fair, Maryland oyster shuckers, the Catskills, her women friends.
(A stab of sharp, violent pain in ALICE’s stomach doubles her over. She stifles a cry and shoves her face into a pillow on the couch. She clutches herself in agony. The pain starts to subside. She clutches herself, rocks herself, trying to make the pain vanish. GERTRUDE TATE, 69, worn out, nervous, fretting, enters from the bathroom. She sees ALICE in pain, goes to her, and holds her – like a mother holding a sick child. A moment of pure care and desolation. Pause. ALICE separates herself from GERTRUDE’s arms.)
GERTRUDE
Alice…
ALICE
I’m fine, Gertrude…don’t trouble yourself…I found a few of my photographs.
GERTRUDE
They’re lovely.
ALICE
You needn’t flatter me. I know I was good. I’ll never see them again. Come, dear, look with me.
GERTRUDE
Later, when we get to Elspeth’s.
(A sudden stab of pain pierces ALICE again. She cries out and clutches herself. GERTRUDE hobbles over to her.)
We must see a doctor.
ALICE
We can’t pay for this apartment – how can we pay a doctor?
GERTRUDE
That’s why my niece is coming. Elspeth wants us to live with her family –
ALICE
No, that will never happen – not for me –
GERTRUDE
Don’t be unbearable!
ALICE
Unbearable? Yes – to live in Queens – “unbearable” doesn’t begin –
GERTRUDE
We’ll visit Staten Island – see friends –
ALICE
They’re all gone – or don’t care to know us any more. You go.
GERTRUDE
I’ve endured fifty years of your stubbornness, and I’ll endure fifty more – but –
ALICE
Fifty has been quite enough for me – just go!
GERTRUDE
Yes, to Elspeth’s! Now help me!
ALICE
Help yourself – you must only help yourself –
GERTRUDE
How? We have no money, no telephone, we can’t manage the stairs, we barely eat. I’m sick, too. The landlord is evicting us. Only Elspeth will help.
ALICE
I want to see my home, go back to Clear Comfort –
GERTRUDE
We lost Clear Comfort years ago! It’s gone! Why are you fighting me? Why do you pretend your memory is failing?
ALICE
I’m not. Old age is unbearable because I can’t forget!
GERTRUDE
Alice, please get ready!
ALICE
I am ready. Now you ready yourself to leave with your niece – and I will look at my photographs in peace. I’m through –
GERTRUDE
Through? With me?
ALICE
I’ll never be a border with your insufferable niece –
GERTRUDE
She’s the only one –
ALICE
She doesn’t oppress one with her tedious sanctimony – she slaughters you –
GERTRUDE
What choice do we have?
ALICE
I choose to do what I want.
GERTRUDE
You can’t do what you want, Alice. You can’t feed yourself, you can’t care for yourself – we can’t go on –
ALICE
You can, I can’t. I’m dying.
GERTRUDE
Alice! You’re ill, that’s all –
ALICE
I’m dying. That’s all.
(A beat)
Thank you for not disagreeing. For once. Now, sit with me. I’ll never ask again –
GERTRUDE
Of course you will –
ALICE
No. No, I promise you I won’t. You’ll see. Just – look at the few photographs I saved.
(ALICE suddenly doubles over in pain and cries out. GERTRUDE runs to her, sits on the sofa and embraces her.)
GERTRUDE
Alice!
ALICE
We’re far from Clear Comfort now, aren’t we, Gertrude?
(CUE MUSIC: CLEAR COMFORT BRIDGE)
BRIDGE:
GERTRUDE:
THO’ THE WORLD MAY NOT ALWAYS BE CRUEL
ALICE:
YOU LEARN THAT IT JUST DOESN’T CARE
GERTRUDE:
WHEN YOU’RE SAVAGED BY ITS INDIFFERENCE
GERTRUDE AND ALICE:
AND THE LIFE THAT YOU LOVED IS NO LONGER THERE…
CHORUS:
GERTRUDE AND ALICE:
AND NOW IT’S…COLD COMFORT
IT HAS LEFT – ALL COMFORT
THAT LIFE OF CLEAR COMFORT FOR ME
CHORUS:
GERTRUDE AND ALICE:
AND THERE IS NO COMFORT
ALICE:
NO CLEAR COMFORT…
FOR CLEAR COMFORT’S NO LONGER HERE.
(Fade on ALICE.)
***
[END OF EXCERPT]
© Jeffrey Harper. May not be reproduced or transmitted without author's permission.
Book & Lyrics By Jeffrey Harper, Music By Louis Tucci (Additional Music By Jeffrey Harper)
OVERTURE
(CUE MUSIC: OVERTURE)
ACT 1
ACT 1, SCENE 1 – ALICE IN THE POOR FARM, 1951
(The hospital ward of the Staten Island Farm Colony – the “Poor Farm” – 1951. OLIVER JENSEN, middle-aged, elegant, tentatively enters stage left, carrying an artist’s portfolio. He meets VICKERS, a female attendant, about to exit.)
JENSEN
Miss Austen’s room – end of the hall?
VICKERS
Pal, this is the Poor Farm. Same room as everybody – last bed on the right.
JENSEN
How is she today?
VICKERS
No idea. Try same as every day. Mute. Incontinent. Impossible. Pick one, all three… Need an introduction?
JENSEN
Well –
VICKERS
(Walking away, exiting, stage left)
Didn’t think so.
(JENSEN crosses stage left. Bare light bulbs hang above a row of beds. LOUD TABLE RADIOS play scratchy AM radio music of the period. He’s assaulted by the vile smells, the filth, the disorder. As he arrives stage right, a bare hanging bulb lights up above ALICE, 85, sitting up in bed, motionless, under a filthy sheet. She stares straight ahead. JENSEN approaches the bed. She does not notice his presence. JENSEN stares at her, trying to reconcile this decrepit, unkempt woman with the images of her in his mind. Pause.)
JENSEN
Miss Austen?
(No response)
Excuse me, madam, are you Alice Austen?
(No response)
I’m Oliver Jensen. I’ve been looking to find your photographs – and you. I admire your work immensely –
(Looking around, finding no chair)
May I sit down?
(ALICE stares ahead. JENSEN sits on the edge of her bed, opens his portfolio.)
I was an editor at Life magazine, but now I’m writing a book about American women – important American women. We’d like to publish several of your photographs.
(ALICE blinks. Something registers. But she stares ahead.)
(JENSEN opens the portfolio. On the scrim on stage, hazy, flickering black and white images – selections of ALICE’s photographs – though it’s unclear if what we’re seeing are the pictures in JENSEN’s portfolio or ALICE’s mind. Finally, the IMAGES start to solidify: a rag-picker on the Lower East Side; The Catskills; the Chicago Colombian Exhibition; Clear Comfort, Aunt Minn, Uncle Peter, Alice’s mother, and then Gertrude Tate as a young woman. MUSIC fades.)
ALICE
Gertrude.
JENSEN
You’re Gertrude? – or the woman in the photograph?
(ALICE is silent, in thought.)
You are Elizabeth Alice Austen?
(No response)
Elizabeth Alice Austen…Munn?
(ALICE’s eyes flicker on JENSEN’s face. Then, from her withered voice, she delivers an order.)
ALICE
You will never use that man’s name in my presence – ever.
(She stares ahead. Pause)
ALICE (CONT'D)
I am…Alice Austen.
(A beat. She looks at the photograph)
Gertrude didn’t come with you?
JENSEN
No. Who’s Gertrude?
(ALICE smiles weakly, says nothing. JENSEN shows her another series of photographs that appear on the scrim: Clear Comfort – Alice’s long lost home on the shore of Staten Island. A picture appears of a house party – men in suits, women in dresses. ALICE reaches out and touches the portfolio, touches the edge of the photograph, moved. A spark of energy emerges within her. )
ALICE
Julia Bredt was so cross with me –
JENSEN
Oh?
ALICE
They all were!
JENSEN
I see –
ALICE
Nonsense. You think I’m doddering –
JENSEN
No –
ALICE
I am doddering. At my age I’ve earned that right.
(Privately amused)
It’s all I ever earned.
(A beat)
What you can’t see is their impatience because I took so long to take their picture. I always took my time. Now time takes me!
JENSEN
Of course –
ALICE
“Of course” nothing! Do you always agree in such submissive fashion? That must make your wife very happy.
JENSEN
It does – when I do. Perhaps I should have tried that with my previous wives.
ALICE
Did you ever notice that a successful marriage requires joint submission to mutual unhappiness?
JENSEN
Yes. Several times.
ALICE
Agreeing again! Thank goodness someone still does. I wouldn’t take the picture until I knew it was absolutely right! And you must suffer everything to get it right! They couldn’t see that. Because they were at a party – that ended long ago.
(Pause. JENSEN stares at her, intrigued. We’re aware of a large table radio on. Alice thumps the cane hanging on her head on the floor)
Martha, turn that radio down or I’ll thrash you with my cane!
(The volume lowers.)
What do you think is worse – the noise or the smell? You can quiet the radio, but… The smell is the worst. Because it’s mine. And it’s always there. Shameful. I’ve dreamt it – my own foul decay.
JENSEN
It’s not so bad.
ALICE
Being lied to is a privilege of age – though not one they observe here.
(Pause. Eyes JENSEN intently. A moment, then directly)
Mr. Jensen: It’s a dirty business, this dying.
(JENSEN reacts)
But you’re not here for me – but for my photographs –
JENSEN
I assure you –
ALICE
I assure you my photographs are the reason you’re here –
JENSEN
Yes, but –
ALICE
Just say “yes.” As long as everyone agreed with me, my life was perfectly beautiful.
JENSEN
As one’s is when everyone agrees and submits.
ALICE
Ah, Mr. Jensen, a little vinegar with your honey. Lovely.
(A beat)
But you’re too late – for the photographs –
JENSEN
I will find them – there are a few, there are more – the Historical Society recovered many –
ALICE
And my house? You know it? We called it Clear Comfort. Is it there?
JENSEN
Yes, I believe so –
ALICE
After the Crash of ’29, we couldn’t hold on. The bank took it. Saloon keepers moved in.
(ALICE grimaces.)
JENSEN
Are you in pain?
ALICE
Constantly. Therefore not worth discussing. The only things worth discussing are the unseen and inexpressible. The rest is redundant.
(Looking at the photograph)
It was quite a life we lived.
JENSEN
Clearly. Can you tell me about your work during this time?
ALICE
Mr. Jensen, I never talk about work; I talk about life! That’s why photography interested me – because of the life in it, not the work. And I always worked to exhaustion.
(A beat. She looks up from her photograph.)
You pity me.
JENSEN
No, I – Yes. Yes, I do.
ALICE
Don’t. I had a life you could only dream of. A loving family. Servants. A wonderful house on the water. I read. Traveled. Did only what interested me – and – and now…Had I lived a comfortable life I didn’t want…That would be worth your pity, Mr. Jensen.
(MUSIC PLAYS: SONG: “CLEAR COMFORT”)
ALICE:
WATCHING THE STEAMSHIPS PLY THROUGH THE NARROWS
WATCHING MY GRANDFATHER’S RED ROSES BLOOM
GLIDING MY SAILBOAT ACROSS NEW YORK HARBOR
FILLING UP SCRAPBOOKS ALONE IN MY ROOM…
CHORUS:
AND THERE WAS…CLEAR COMFORT.
IT WAS THERE – CLEAR COMFORT.
A LIFE OF CLEAR COMFORT FOR ME.
VERSE:
BISHOPS AND ARTISTS CAME BY TO VISIT
ASTORS AND DODGES STOPPED BY FOR TEA
HENRY THOREAU THRILLED US WITH BRILLIANCE
EVERYONE SHOWED US HOW LIFE OUGHT TO BE
CHORUS:
AND THERE WAS…CLEAR COMFORT.
IT WAS THERE – CLEAR COMFORT.
A LIFE OF CLEAR COMFORT FOR ME.
BRIDGE:
WE READ THE BOOKS THAT SHOULD BE READ
WE SPOKE THE WORDS THAT GREAT MEN SAID
WE LIVED THE LIVES THAT FINE PEOPLE LED
AND GOD HEARD THE PRAYERS WE SAID...
CHORUS:
AND THERE WAS…CLEAR COMFORT.
IT WAS THERE – CLEAR COMFORT.
A LIFE OF CLEAR COMFORT FOR ME.
VICKERS
Alice, you got your whatever, appointment, meeting. Doc’s waiting.
ALICE:
THEN THE NEW MONEY CAME WITH THEIR MILLIONS
LOADED WITH FORTUNES FROM IRON AND BEER
VICKERS
(To JENSEN)
Time to blow, friend.
ALICE Singing):
WITH COAL-FUELED MACHINES, A SOOT-SOILED AGE
THE COMFORT WE KNEW SOON TURNED TO FEAR
VICKERS
(To ALICE)
You’re not going to give me trouble, Alice? Are you?
(Music ends)
ALICE
(To JENSEN)
For most of my life I gave orders to servants. Now they order me.
(A beat)
Come again, Mr. Jensen.
(VICKERS moves towards her. To JENSEN)
You will come again, won’t you?
(A beat)
Please.
JENSEN
Yes. Of course. I’ll come back. I’ll keep looking for your photographs – and I will get you out of this place.
ALICE
Careful what you promise, Mr. Jensen.
(VICKERS puts her in the wheel chair and is about to push the wheelchair, but she raises her hand and snaps her fingers with authority so clear it halts VICKERS.)
ALICE (CONT'D)
(To JENSEN)
You thought I was dead.
JENSEN
Yes.
ALICE
Well, you’re half-right. Console yourself with that. Half-truths ease the bitterness of most lives.
JENSEN
Yours too?
ALICE
I’m not bitter, Mr. Jensen. I’m Alice Austen! And you know what I say, Mr. Jensen? Of course not. You don’t even know what I don’t say.
(A beat)
ALICE (CONT'D)
Never say die, Mr. Jensen... Say, “Damn!”
(A beat)
Damn the obstacles! Damn the consequences! Damn it all! It’s all taken away before we are!
(She laughs acidly as the VICKERS pushes her away. Lights fade. As ALICE is wheeled away, the set transforms to St. George, Staten Island, 1949 and the apartment of ALICE Austen, 83, and her life partner GERTRUDE TATE, 68.)
(CUE MUSIC : REPRISE CLEAR COMFORT MELODY)
ACT 1, SCENE 2 – STATEN ISLAND, 1949, ALICE AND GERTRUDE IN POVERTY
(St. George, Staten Island, 1949. The apartment of ALICE Austen, 83, and her life partner GERTRUDE TATE, 68. The apartment is shabby, sparsely furnished. They are impoverished, on the brink of total destitution. ALICE, withered, crippled with arthritis, sits on the couch.
CUE PHOTOGRAPHS: A MONTAGE OF ALICE’S PHOTOGRAPHS: Parties at ALICE AUSTEN’s family home – called Clear Comfort – Austen family members, immigrants, the Chicago World’s Fair, Maryland oyster shuckers, the Catskills, her women friends.
(A stab of sharp, violent pain in ALICE’s stomach doubles her over. She stifles a cry and shoves her face into a pillow on the couch. She clutches herself in agony. The pain starts to subside. She clutches herself, rocks herself, trying to make the pain vanish. GERTRUDE TATE, 69, worn out, nervous, fretting, enters from the bathroom. She sees ALICE in pain, goes to her, and holds her – like a mother holding a sick child. A moment of pure care and desolation. Pause. ALICE separates herself from GERTRUDE’s arms.)
GERTRUDE
Alice…
ALICE
I’m fine, Gertrude…don’t trouble yourself…I found a few of my photographs.
GERTRUDE
They’re lovely.
ALICE
You needn’t flatter me. I know I was good. I’ll never see them again. Come, dear, look with me.
GERTRUDE
Later, when we get to Elspeth’s.
(A sudden stab of pain pierces ALICE again. She cries out and clutches herself. GERTRUDE hobbles over to her.)
We must see a doctor.
ALICE
We can’t pay for this apartment – how can we pay a doctor?
GERTRUDE
That’s why my niece is coming. Elspeth wants us to live with her family –
ALICE
No, that will never happen – not for me –
GERTRUDE
Don’t be unbearable!
ALICE
Unbearable? Yes – to live in Queens – “unbearable” doesn’t begin –
GERTRUDE
We’ll visit Staten Island – see friends –
ALICE
They’re all gone – or don’t care to know us any more. You go.
GERTRUDE
I’ve endured fifty years of your stubbornness, and I’ll endure fifty more – but –
ALICE
Fifty has been quite enough for me – just go!
GERTRUDE
Yes, to Elspeth’s! Now help me!
ALICE
Help yourself – you must only help yourself –
GERTRUDE
How? We have no money, no telephone, we can’t manage the stairs, we barely eat. I’m sick, too. The landlord is evicting us. Only Elspeth will help.
ALICE
I want to see my home, go back to Clear Comfort –
GERTRUDE
We lost Clear Comfort years ago! It’s gone! Why are you fighting me? Why do you pretend your memory is failing?
ALICE
I’m not. Old age is unbearable because I can’t forget!
GERTRUDE
Alice, please get ready!
ALICE
I am ready. Now you ready yourself to leave with your niece – and I will look at my photographs in peace. I’m through –
GERTRUDE
Through? With me?
ALICE
I’ll never be a border with your insufferable niece –
GERTRUDE
She’s the only one –
ALICE
She doesn’t oppress one with her tedious sanctimony – she slaughters you –
GERTRUDE
What choice do we have?
ALICE
I choose to do what I want.
GERTRUDE
You can’t do what you want, Alice. You can’t feed yourself, you can’t care for yourself – we can’t go on –
ALICE
You can, I can’t. I’m dying.
GERTRUDE
Alice! You’re ill, that’s all –
ALICE
I’m dying. That’s all.
(A beat)
Thank you for not disagreeing. For once. Now, sit with me. I’ll never ask again –
GERTRUDE
Of course you will –
ALICE
No. No, I promise you I won’t. You’ll see. Just – look at the few photographs I saved.
(ALICE suddenly doubles over in pain and cries out. GERTRUDE runs to her, sits on the sofa and embraces her.)
GERTRUDE
Alice!
ALICE
We’re far from Clear Comfort now, aren’t we, Gertrude?
(CUE MUSIC: CLEAR COMFORT BRIDGE)
BRIDGE:
GERTRUDE:
THO’ THE WORLD MAY NOT ALWAYS BE CRUEL
ALICE:
YOU LEARN THAT IT JUST DOESN’T CARE
GERTRUDE:
WHEN YOU’RE SAVAGED BY ITS INDIFFERENCE
GERTRUDE AND ALICE:
AND THE LIFE THAT YOU LOVED IS NO LONGER THERE…
CHORUS:
GERTRUDE AND ALICE:
AND NOW IT’S…COLD COMFORT
IT HAS LEFT – ALL COMFORT
THAT LIFE OF CLEAR COMFORT FOR ME
CHORUS:
GERTRUDE AND ALICE:
AND THERE IS NO COMFORT
ALICE:
NO CLEAR COMFORT…
FOR CLEAR COMFORT’S NO LONGER HERE.
(Fade on ALICE.)
***
[END OF EXCERPT]
© Jeffrey Harper. May not be reproduced or transmitted without author's permission.
