_Dad._ Humph! Too proud to tell me, hey? The woman looks pale; and the child too. _(To Bill.)_ Come here, youngster. So this is my grandson! _(To Will.)_ It"s all very well for you to make war on your old father and break his pride; but you"d no right to use your child like this. _(Looks at Mss. on table.)_ What"s this!
_Peggy._ It"s Will"s ma.n.u.script. A play.
_Dad._ So that"s what he is doing, instead of taking care of his wife and child? _(Punches Mss. with his cane and scatters it in every direction over the floor)._
_Will._ Oh!
_Peggy._ Don"t do that! We have so much trouble keeping it straight anyway. _(Gathers up Mss. and replaces it on table)._
_Dad._ What"s in the thing? Let me look at it. _(Starts to examine it)._
_Peggy (in sudden alarm)._ No, no!
_Dad._ Hey? Why not?
_Peggy._ Not yet. Wait--Will has to revise it. You see--_(She laughs.)_ He"s got his local color wrong again.
_Dad (gazing from one to the other)._ What"s the joke?
_Peggy._ You see, Dad--Will"s been having a hard time, and it"s made him pessimistic. He"s written a play, and he was ruining it with an unhappy ending. But now--oh, now it has a happy ending! It"ll be a success! _(Rushes to Will.)_ Oh, Will, I see just how it goes! I"ve got the very words! Let me write them, while they"re fresh in my mind! (Runs to table, takes pencil and paper.)
_Dad._ But what--
_Peggy._ Wait! Wait! Excuse us, please! It"s so important! Here, Bill--take your grandfather! Take him up on the roof and let him see the view! Take him downstairs and let the beggar-kid sing for him! I want just ten minutes to get this down! _(Pushes Dad and Bill off Left.)_ Just ten minutes, please! _(Shuts them out.)_ Now, Will, come here! You see how it is now! Dad has relented, your happy ending is all ready made! You"re not making any concession to the box-office--you"re simply following truth--the natural human instincts of a father, who loves his son, in spite of all his mistakes and his own bad temper! He orders him out--but all the time his heart is breaking--he"s eager for an excuse to relent. Oh, Will, you must see that!
_Will (reluctantly)._ Yes, I suppose so.
_Peggy._ All right then! We go back to your scene in Dad"s drawing-room--just after Jack has carried Belle out. _(Play-play begins to appear.)_ Dad stands there, with Jessie clinging to him, weeping, imploring. And Bob is trying to argue with him. Dad doesn"t answer at first--wait, I"ll write the scene! _(Full light on Play-play. Will makes secret exit.)_
_Bob._ Dad, listen to reason now! Don"t make this dreadful mistake.
Jack has had his lesson. Can"t you see he"s had it--the very thing we all wanted for him? He"s learned something about the reality of life!
_Jessie (to Bob)._ Make Jack wait! Don"t let him go away! Hurry!
_(Bob exit.)_ Dad, you must forgive him! That"s a good girl he"s brought here--can"t you see that? And she"s ill--she"s as ill as I was! Don"t you remember how you worried about me? You aren"t really cruel, Dad--
_Dad._ I don"t want to be cruel. But I won"t have him--
_Jessie._ You must forgive him, Dad! _(Jack appears in doorway, with Bob, Dolly and Bill behind him.)_ Jack! Come ask him to forgive you!
He"s your father! You must do it, to save the girl"s life!
_Jack (advances)._ Don"t misunderstand me, Dad. I don"t ask for the money. I"ve lost my claim to it, I don"t care what you do with it.
But I must save this girl! Don"t you see what"s happened to me?
Don"t you see what I"ve gained by my adventure?
_Dad._ What have you gained?
_Jack._ In the first place wisdom! In the second a wife--a n.o.ble-hearted and faithful and loving woman, who will stand by me through all the trials of my life! Isn"t that worth more than a quarter of a million dollars? Answer me, Dad--_(Stretches out his arms to him.)_ Oh, Dad, isn"t it so?
_Dad (gruffly)._ Well, young fellow, I"m glad to hear you"ve learned a little sense, at least! _(He embraces Jack.)_
_Peggy (leaping to her feet and pointing to the Play-play scene)._ There! There! There"s your happy ending! There"s your Pot-boiler!
CURTAIN.
POSTSCRIPT
In connection with this play there is a story which should be told, for reasons which will be revealed in the telling.
"The Pot-boiler" was written in 1912, and entered for copyright in February, 1913. I took the ma.n.u.script to a friend, Edwin Bjorkman, editor of the "Modern Drama Series," and the most widely read student of dramatic literature known to me; also to Edgar Selwyn and Margaret Mayo, who knew thoroughly the contemporary stage. These friends confirmed me in my belief that I had hit upon that rare phenomenon--an entirely new idea to the stage. There are many examples of the "play within a play," but up to that time there had never been a play which showed the WRITING of a play: the processes which go on in the mind of a playwright, and how he uses his personal experiences in his work.
"The Pot-boiler" was accepted for production by William Harris, Jr., at the Hudson Theatre, New York. After many delays, Mr. Harris came to the conclusion that the play needed some rewriting to give it that "punch" which is essential to production in the neighborhood of Broadway. He sought to interest a certain well-known playwright, who will be here designated as Mr. X, in the idea of collaborating with me on the play. Mr. X read the ma.n.u.script and offered to collaborate on condition that two changes should be made: first, the play should be changed from a "shirt-sleeve play" to a "dress-suit play"--that is, the characters should be rich people; and second, the last act should be located in a manager"s office, and show the acceptance of the play. As I did not care for these suggestions, Mr. X dropped the matter, and Mr. Harris allowed his rights in the play to lapse.
A year or so later, happening into Mr. Harris" office in the Hudson Theatre, he asked me with a smile, "Have you seen your play?" And when I asked what he meant, he added. "They have put it on downstairs." Needless to say, I purchased a ticket for the performance, and saw a play which differed from my play in two essentials--these being precisely the modifications which Mr. X had tried to persuade me to make!
The new play was announced as the work of two playrights, whom I will indicate as Smith and Brown; it was produced by a firm of managers, whom I will indicate as Jones and Robinson. I went to see Messrs. Jones and Robinson, who a.s.sured me they had never even heard of my play. While I was in the office, Mr. Smith, one of the playwrights, sought an interview with me, and a.s.sured me that he also had never heard of my play, his work was absolutely original. I gave him the names of various persons who had read my play, including Mr. X; and Mr. Smith a.s.sured me earnestly that he was a stranger to all of them. I accepted his statement; but as I was on my way out of the office of Messrs. Jones and Robinson, I beheld the name of Mr. X printed upon one of the doors of their private rooms, and upon inquiry I learned that Mr. X was employed on a regular salary as a play-reviser for this firm!
I went away pondering the situation. What I was asked to believe was as follows: Mr. Smith had composed a play having all the essential features of my new and original play, and differing only in the two modifications--these being the very same two modifications which Mr. X had urged me to make in my play. Mr. Smith had taken this play to the firm which employed Mr. X, and this firm had accepted the play and produced it, without Mr. X, their chief play-reviser, ever seeing it--or else without his mentioning that it was my play, with the two modifications in my play which he had recommended. The play had been taken to the Hudson Theatre, owned by William Harris, Jr., who had accepted my play and submitted it to Mr. X, and the play had actually been produced at this theatre for nearly a week without either authors or managers ever hearing of my play!
I may be unduly suspicious, but I could not credit this peculiar chain of coincidences. I took the matter to the Author"s League, whose executive committee read my play, saw the other play, and agreed that I had cause for inquiry. Mr. Louis Joseph Vance, representing the league, undertook to interview Mr. X, who was an intimate friend of his, and sent Mr. X a telegram asking for an appointment. Mr. X did not answer. Mr. Vance a.s.sured me that this was the first time the gentleman had ever failed to reply to such a request from him. Subsequently, Mr. Vance made an appointment to meet Mr. X at luncheon, and hear his explanation of the matter; but Mr. X failed to keep the appointment. I went ahead with plans for a law-suit, whereupon Messrs. Jones and Robinson withdrew their play.
My reasons for telling the story are two. First, I think it well that would-be playwrights should have some idea what they may encounter when they venture into the jungles of Broadway; and second, because critics and play-goers who saw the play of Smith and Brown will wish to know which play was written first.