“HIGH” LIFE, JANUARY 13, 1922.
PAGE THREE
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HOME AGAIN BLUES
A Tragedy in one Set, by WHIegby
Scene—The Southern Railway Sta
tion Greensboro.
Time—A few days before Chri.stmas,
1921.
Characters of the play
I. M. Phresh, ’25—home from school
for the holidays.
A Cop.
Author’s Foreword
All dramatic .scenes should be
grounded in the universal. To inter
est man a play must expres.s a theme
applicable to man everywhere. We
cannot successfully isolate it in the
{.‘articular; we must, on the other
hand give articulation to a plot
whose theme reaches out and seizes
upon the universal.
It was, therefore, the intention
of the writer of this little epi.sode
of heartrending tragedy, to give
expression to a theme that may well
serve as a play to be given in any
land or any speech. The deep pa-
• thos of the lad retuiming home for
the first holiday after triumphantly
overmastering all obstacles in his
path toward higher enlightenment,
and his consequent downfall and
discrediting by a cruel and unseeing
home community that criminally fail
ment—all this is tragedy in the j
essence. - f
This play, then, with Aeschylus’ '
to recognize his ability and achieve-
“Agamemnon,” and Shakespeare’s '
“King Lear,” is a play dealing with ;
one of the deepest and most .soul- '
stirring themes, the sin of ingrati* •
tude.
Act I
Scene 1
As the curtain slowly rises, the
noise of an approaching locomotive ■
is heard off-stage. It steadily in- ■
creases in volume until it apparently
reache.s its destination, evidently just
off to the left of the stage, where we
judge it has stopped. The stage re
mains unoccupied. The settings are
quite bare, the stage representing as
it does cover of the station between
the yard and the street that runs at
right angles to the track. Back stage
a pox-tion of the track cuts diago
nally across. At right a corner of
the station protrude.s to center stage.
The entrance door to the waiting
I'oom may be seen in the left sec
tion of this building. Off stage right
are heard the bumpings and groan-
ings of a trolley car, and an occas
ional auto as it attempts South Elm
Street. The train has stopped and i.s
letting off surplus steam.
Enter Phresh—(He looks it.—Ed.)
from left, carrying suitcase. He is
seventeen. Booth Tarkington would
tell you so himself. He wears pinch
back blue flannel ovei’coat that strikes
him just above the knees, disclosing
a part of a pair of gray tweed trous
ers. These in turn have a Gillette
crease in ihem that maintains itself
in spite of the fact that the straight
cuff trousers flop and reflop several
times over the black low quarters.
(We know it isn’t good playwnting,
but we venture the assertion that he
wears wool socks, and maybe—cai*-
ries matches—in his hip pocket.—Ed.)
A large gay wool scarf hides every
thing except the red and brown knit
tie that partially shows. On the top
of the front of his head there perches
a cruelly treated brown chapeau that
has evidently been under a steam rol
ler and three or four pile drivers.
(They sa'y it’s collegiate when you
wear it that way.—Ed.)
From hrs overcoat pocket protrudes
the latest copy of the Cosmopolitan.
He walks over to the center of stage
near the waiting room entrance, and
.‘^ets down his suitcase. With dignity
and great deliberation, he takes from
his pocket his watch, disclosing a
bronze 25c fob. Returning it to
its place, he glances around, as if
expecting some one. With a sigh'
and a raising of eyebrows, he ex
presses a boredom that would make
Wally Reid green with envy.
Phresh—(Oh, Algernon, isn’t he
the dear!—Ed.) I wonder where the
old man could be! He didn’t even
send the chauffeur around with the
limousine to meet me. After the
way I knocked those old profs off the
limb, too!
His disgu.st is quite evident. Reach
ing into his vest pocket he brings
forth a half dozen or so cigarette
holders of various colors and sizes.
Selecting one about nine inches long,
he fits his Pall Mall into it, lights
up, and begins to smoke rings at the
dingy walls of the station.
Enter from the station room door, ^
the Cop, He appears to be absorb
ed in matters of great moment and
does not notice the late arrival.
Phresh (advancing)—Why, good
morning, Mr. O’Reily. I’m mighty i
glad to see you again.
The Cop (looking up)—Hello, son! |
just gettin’ in? Been over to High’
Point for a day or so?
Phresh (he has lost three inches in i
chest expansion.) Er-- no. I’ve been |
off to school this fall, and am just i
getting in for the holidays. ■
The Cop—Oh, you are! Didn’t '
know you’d been out of town, son.
(Another inch evaporates). But you
see Tm kept powerful busy with !
these here traffic regulations to en- ’
force. Greensboro’s, such a strict
town after watching this car parking
. in the right places. I just sorter lost
track of you boy.s.
Phresh—Yes, it didn’t take us long
to grow up. It doesn’t seem anv
time since I was only a high school
lad.
The Cop—So you are off at col-
, lege. How you like it? They feed
you plenty ?
Phi-esh—Oh, yes. I eat at the best
boarding house in town. Most of the
fraternity men eat there. I sit only
four tables away from the I. Tappa
Kegs. They have a table all by
themselves.
The Cop—I bet they do feed you
good there. Them men you are talk
ing about are the fellows that are
putting up so many buildings over
there, aint they ? I know they’d eat
like bosses. But that’s over to Chap
el Hill, an’ you told me you was go
ing over here to Elon, didn’t you, or
was it Guilford ?
Phresh (horrified)—Oh, no, no. I
go to North Carolina, but the frater
nity men are not the ones who are
doing the work on the new develop
ment over there. They are students
who belong to frateraities. They are
social clubs and very select, you
know. You can't join a frat—
The Cop—A what?
Phresh (with fatherly wisdom)
Probably you don’t understand. By
“frat” I mean “fraternity.” That is
the short name that we apply to them
As I started to say, you can’t join
a fraternity until your Sophomore
year.
The Cop—That’s the second year,
isn’t it?
Phresh—Yes. And when you go
back the second year you may get a
bid to a fi*at, and then you join and
you get to wear a frat pin, and if you
get engaged you give it to your
girl and she wears it, like a diamond
ring, you know. If you get in a
frat you are a big man, and evei’y-
body looks up to you when you wear
a frat badge.
The Cop—Sorter like the lodge I
belong to, I reckon.
Phresh—Yes. Only a frat is lots
classier. Of course the Masons are
good, but a frat is lots more import
ant and stronger.
The Cop (laughs to himself)—Yes,
son, I guess you’re right. But it
must be a powerful strong club,
(chuckles) You are going to join
one?
Phresh—I hope so. If I don’t, life
won’t be worth living any more. It
would be a terrible disgrace not to
belong to any. Just think what you
would say if the girls would say to
you: ’’Well, 1. M., let me see your
pin. I know it’s perfectly darling,
with the pearls’n everything,” and
you’d have to say: “I’m not a fratei'-
nity man.” But I think I’ll get in
one. One of the fellows that belongs
to one told me how to do to get a bid,
and I’ve been doing it. All there is
to it is to take the members to the
drug store once a day and to the
movies at night. Then sometimes- I
take them to a show in. Durham.
This boy that told me said it was a
confidential tip, and not to let it out,
but you won’t tell anybody, I know.
None of the other first year men
know about it.
The Cop—I thought you called
'em Fre.shmens.
Phresh— Oh, I reckon that is one
name, but we prefer that people call
us “first yeai’ men.” It is not as,
well—vulgar—to say the least, you
know.
Off stage band music is heard.
Phresh straightens up, adjusts his
necktie, sets the cigarette holder at a
rakish angle, pulls his hat lower
over his eyes, and with a downward
movement of his hand wallops the in
defensible hat another terrific blow
that renders it completely “college.”
The Cop—That Salvation Army
certainly likes to hang out hei'e at
this station. Raise more I'acket than
that auctioneer up at Max Rone.s’
sale, (laughs) Well, I’ll see you later,
son. (He goes out.)
Phre.sh (crestfallen, to himself)—
I I might have known “Bull” Slinger
i was woofing about the band meet
ing me at the station because the
; News told about my being elected
sub-assistant manager of the First
i Year Reserve Horseshoe Varsity
’team, (swelling to normal). But,
care be gone. Next year shall my
■ breast be adorned with the worthy
I badge of I. Tappa Keg, and I shall
then be nothing shoi’t of the unadul
terated stuff! Meanwhile, to my
father’s house, and the fatted calf!
Heroically, he takes his suitcase,
Comos, and departure, just as, with
a tremenduous crash, the curtain
falls and awakes the audience from
its sound slumber.
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