27 Wagons Full of Cotton and Other Plays by Tennessee Williams Page B

yes, you have, young fellow. My point is this: the ALL-LEATHER slogan is not what sells any more—not in shoes and not in humanity, neither! The emphasis isn’t on quality. Production, production, yes! But out of inferior goods! Ersatz —that’s what they’re making ‘em out of!
    H ARPER: ( getting up )That’s your opinion because you belong to the past.
    M R. C HARLIE: ( furiously )A piece of impertinence, young man! I expect to be accorded a certain amount of respect by whippersnappers like you!
    H ARPER: Hold on, Charlie.
    M R. C HARLIE: I belong to—tradition. I am a legend. Known from one end of the Delta to the other. From the Peabody hotel in Memphis to Cat-Fish Row in Vicksburg. Mistuh Charlie— Mistuh Charlie! Who knows you? What do you represent? A line of goods of doubtful value, some kike concern in the East! Get out of my room! I’d rather play solitaire, than poker with men who’re no more solid characters than thejacks in the deck! ( He opens the door for the young salesman who shrugs and steps out with alacrity. Then he slams the door shut and breathes heavily. The Negro enters with a pitcher of ice water. )
    N EGRO: ( grinning )What you shoutin’ about, Mistuh Charlie?
    M R. C HARLIE: I lose my patience sometimes. Nigger—
    N EGRO: Yes, suh?
    M R. C HARLIE: You remember the way it used to be.
    N EGRO: ( gently )Yes, suh.
    M R. C HARLIE: I used to come in town like a conquering hero! Why, my God, nigger—they all but laid red carpets at my feet! Isn’t that so?
    N EGRO: That’s so, Mistuh Charlie.
    M R. C HARLIE: This room was like a throne- room.My samples laid out over there on green velvet cloth! The ceiling-fan going —now broken! And over here—the wash-bowl an’ pitcher removed and the table-top loaded with liquor! In and out from the time I arrived till the time I left, the men of the road who knew me, to whom I stood for things commanding respect! Poker—continuous! Shouting, laughing—hilarity! Where have they all gone to?
    N EGRO: ( solemnly nodding )The graveyard is crowded with folks we knew, Mistuh Charlie. It’s mighty late in the day!
    M R. C HARLIE: Huh! ( He crosses to the window. )Nigguh, it ain’t even late in the day any more—( He throws up the blind. )It’s NIGHT! ( The sface of the window is black. )
    N EGRO: ( softly, with a wise old smile )Yes, suh . . . Night, Mistuh Charlie!
    CURTAIN

Portrait of a Madonna
    Respectfully dedicated to the talent and charm of Miss Lillian Gish.

CHARACTERS
    M ISS L UCRETIA C OLLINS.
    T HE P ORTER.
    T HE E LEVATOR B OY.
    T HE D OCTOR.
    T HE N URSE.
    M R. A BRAMS.

Portrait of a Madonna
    S CENE: The living room of a moderate-priced city apartment. The furnishings are old-fashioned and everything is in a state of neglect and disorder. There is a door in the back wall to a bedroom, and on the right to the outside hall.
    M ISS COLLINS: Richard! ( The door bursts open and Miss Collins rushes out, distractedly. She is a middle-aged spinster, very slight and hunched of figure with a desiccated face that is flushed with excitement. Her hair is arranged in curls that would become a young girl and she wears a frilly negligee which might have come from an old hope chest of a period considerably earlier. )No, no, no, no! I don’t care if the whole church hears about it! ( She frenziedly snatches up the phone. )Manager, I’ve got to speak to the manager! Hurry, oh, please hurry, there’s a man —! ( wildly aside as if to an invisible figure )Lost all respect, absolutely no respect! . . . Mr. Abrams? ( in a tense hushed voice )I don’t want any reporters to hear about this but something awful has been going on upstairs. Yes, this is Miss Collins’ apartment on the top floor. I’ve refrained from making any complaint because of my connections with the church. I used to be assistant to the Sunday School superintendent and I once had the primary class. I helped them put on the Christmas pageant. I made the dress for the Virgin and Mother,