Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 78

BY

DAVID PINSKI

_A Dollar_ is reprinted by special permission of David Pinski and of B. W. Huebach, New York City, the publisher of David Pinski's _Ten Plays_, from which this play is taken. All rights reserved. For permission to perform address the publisher.

DAVID PINSKI

David Pinski, perhaps the most notable dramatist of the Yiddish Theatre, was born of Jewish parentage April 5, 1872, in Mohilev, on the Dnieper, White Russia. Because his parents had rabbinical aspirations for him he was well educated in Hebrew studies (Bible and Talmud) by his fourteenth year, when he moved to Moscow, where he was further trained in cla.s.sical and secular studies. In 1891 he planned to study medicine in Vienna, but soon returned to Warsaw, where he began his literary work as a short-story writer. In 1896 he took up the study of philosophy and literature, and in 1899 wrote his first plays. In 1899 he came to New York City, where he is now editor of the Jewish daily, _Die Zeit_. In 1911 he revisited Germany to see a production of his well-known comedy, _The Treasure_, by Max Reinhart.

Mr. Pinski is zealous in his interests in literature, drama, socialism, and Zionism. Drama is to him an interpretation of life, and a guide and leader, as were the words of the old poets and prophets. "The dramatic technique," says he, "changes with each plot, as each plot brings with it its own technique. One thing, however, must be common to all the different forms of the dramatic technique--avoidance of tediousness."

Mr. Pinski has written a goodly number of plays, most of which are on Yiddish themes. _Forgotten Souls_, _The Stranger_, _Sufferings_, _The Treasure_, _The Phonograph_, and _A Dollar_ may be mentioned. Most of his plays have been produced many times; _The Stranger_ played the third season in Moscow.

"I wrote _A Dollar_," says he, "in the summer of 1913, when I was hard pressed financially. I relieved myself of my feelings by a hearty laugh at the almighty dollar and the race for it. Just as I did many summers before, in 1906, when I entertained myself by ridiculing the mad money joy in the bigger comedy, _The Treasure_."

PERSONS

The Characters are given in the order of their appearance.

THE COMEDIAN THE VILLAIN THE TRAGEDIAN ACTOR _who plays_ "OLD MAN" _role_ THE HEROINE THE INGENUE ACTRESS _who plays_ "OLD WOMAN" _role_ THE STRANGER

A DOLLAR

_A cross-roads at the edge of a forest. One road extends from left to right; the other crosses the first diagonally, disappearing into the forest. The roadside is bordered with gra.s.s. On the right, at the crossing, stands a sign-post, to which are nailed two boards, giving directions and distances._

_The afternoon of a summer day. A troupe of stranded strolling players enters from the left. They are ragged and weary. The_ COMEDIAN _walks first, holding a valise in each hand, followed by the_ VILLAIN _carrying over his arms two huge bundles wrapped in bed-sheets. Immediately behind these the_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD MAN" _carrying together a large, heavy trunk_.

COMEDIAN. [_Stepping toward the sign-post, reading the directions on the boards, and explaining to the approaching fellow-actors._] That way [_pointing to right and swinging the valise to indicate the direction_]

is thirty miles. This way [_pointing to left_] is forty-five--and that way it is thirty-six. Now choose for yourself the town that you'll never reach to-day. The nearest way for us is back to where we came from, whence we were escorted with the most splendid catcalls that ever crowned our histrionic successes.

VILLAIN. [_Exhausted._] Who will lend me a hand to wipe off my perspiration? It has a nasty way of streaming into my mouth.

COMEDIAN. Stand on your head, then, and let your perspiration water a more fruitful soil.

VILLAIN. Oh!

[_He drops his arms, the bundles fall down. He then sinks down onto one of them and wipes off the perspiration, moving his hand wearily over his face. The_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD MAN" _approach the post and read the signs_.

TRAGEDIAN. [_In a deep, dramatic voice._] It's hopeless! It's hopeless!

[_He lets go his end of the trunk._

"OLD MAN." [_Lets go his end of the trunk._] Mm. Another stop.

[TRAGEDIAN _sits himself down on the trunk in a tragico-heroic pose, knees wide apart, right elbow on right knee, left hand on left leg, head slightly bent toward the right_. COMEDIAN _puts down the valises and rolls a cigarette_. The "OLD MAN" _also sits down upon the trunk, head sunk upon his breast_.

VILLAIN. Thirty miles to the nearest town! Thirty miles!

COMEDIAN. It's an outrage how far people move their towns away from us.

VILLAIN. We won't strike a town until the day after to-morrow.

COMEDIAN. Hurrah! That's luck for you! There's yet a day-after-to-morrow for us.

VILLAIN. And the old women are still far behind us. Crawling!

"OLD MAN." They want the vote and they can't even walk.

COMEDIAN. We won't give them votes, that's settled. Down with votes for women!

VILLAIN. It seems the devil himself can't take you! Neither your tongue nor your feet ever get tired. You get on my nerves. Sit down and shut up for a moment.

COMEDIAN. _Me?_ Ha--ha! I'm going back there to the lady of my heart.

I'll meet her and fetch her hither in my arms.

[_He spits on his hands, turns up his sleeves, and strides rapidly off toward the left._

VILLAIN. Clown!

"OLD MAN." How can he laugh and play his pranks even now? We haven't a cent to our souls, our supply of food is running low and our shoes are dilapidated.

TRAGEDIAN. [_With an outburst._] Stop it! No reckoning! The number of our sins is great and the tale of our misfortunes is even greater. Holy Father! Our flasks are empty; I'd give what is left of our soles [_displaying his ragged shoes_] for just a smell of whiskey.

[_From the left is heard the laughter of a woman. Enter the_ COMEDIAN _carrying in his arms the_ HEROINE, _who has her hands around his neck and holds a satchel in both hands behind his back_.

COMEDIAN. [_Letting his burden down upon the gra.s.s._] Sit down, my love, and rest up. We go no further to-day. Your feet, your tender little feet must ache you. How unhappy that makes me! At the first opportunity I shall buy you an automobile.

HEROINE. And in the meantime you may carry me oftener.

COMEDIAN. The beast of burden hears and obeys.

[_Enter the_ INGENUE _and the_ "OLD WOMAN," _each carrying a small satchel_.

INGENUE. [_Weary and pouting._] Ah! No one carried _me_.

[_She sits on the gra.s.s to the right of the_ HEROINE.

VILLAIN. We have only one a.s.s with us.

[COMEDIAN _stretches himself out at the feet of the_ HEROINE _and emits the bray of a donkey_. "OLD WOMAN" _sits down on the gra.s.s to the left of the_ HEROINE.

"OLD WOMAN." And are we to pa.s.s the night here?