Race Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  PRODUCTION HISTORY

  SCENE ONE

  SCENE TWO

  SCENE THREE

  Copyright Page

  THIS PLAY IS DEDICATED TO SHELBY STEELE

  PRODUCTION HISTORY

  Race premiered on Broadway on December 6, 2009, at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre (Producers: Jeffrey Richards; Jerry Frankel; Jam Theatricals; JK Productions; Peggy Hill and Nicholas Quinn Rosenkranz; Scott M. Delman; Terry Allen Kramer/James L. Nederlander; Swinsky Deitch; Bat-Barry Productions; Ronald Frankel; James Fuld, Jr.; Kathleen K. Johnson; Terry Schnuck; The Weinstein Company; Marc Frankel; Jay and Cindy Gutterman/ Stewart Mercer). The production was directed by David Mamet, with scenic design by Santo Loquasto, costume design by Thomas Broecker and lighting design by Brian MacDevitt; the production stage manager was Matthew Silver. The cast was:

  JACK LAWSON James Spader

  HENRY BROWN David Alan Grier

  SUSAN Kerry Washington

  CHARLES STRICKLAND Richard Thomas

  THE SCENE

  An office

  THE CHARACTERS

  JACK LAWSON and CHARLES STRICKLAND two white men in their forties

  HENRY BROWN a black man in his forties

  SUSAN a black woman in her twenties

  SCENE ONE

  An office.

  Jack, Henry, Charles and Susan onstage.

  HENRY: Sit down.

  (Charles holds an overcoat, which Susan takes from him. Charles sits.)

  You want to tell me about black folks? I’ll help you: O.J. Was guilty. Rodney King was in the wrong place, but the police have the right to use force. Malcolm X. Was noble when he renounced violence. Prior to that he was misguided. Dr. King was, of course, a saint. He was killed by a jealous husband, and you had a maid when you were young who was better to you than your mother. She raised you. You’ve never fucked a black girl, but one sat near you in science class, and she was actually rather shy.

  (Pause.)

  CHARLES: . . . I would never say any of . . .

  HENRY: You’re fucking A right you wouldn’t. Which is the purpose of the lesson. Do you know what you can say? To a black man. On the subject of race?

  CHARLES: “Nothing.”

  HENRY: That is correct.

  (Pause.)

  CHARLES: Black people can talk about Race.

  HENRY: How about that.

  (Pause.)

  CHARLES: I will do anything I can. To wipe the slate clean.

  JACK: You cannot wipe the slate clean.

  HENRY: Mmm-hmm.

  JACK: You say it isn’t fair? It is neither fair nor unfair. None of us is immune. From a false accusation.

  CHARLES: You know it is false?

  JACK: I will assume that it is false.

  CHARLES: Why?

  JACK: Because you will be paying us to support that assumption.

  CHARLES: And if I were not paying you?

  JACK: I would assume that you are guilty.

  CHARLES: Why?

  JACK: Because it makes a better story.

  HENRY: World goes to sleep at night Mr. Strickland. Wakes up and it needs two things. A cup of coffee and some vicious gossip.

  CHARLES: And you can change the world.

  HENRY: No one can change the world.

  CHARLES: But you could perhaps change. The outcome in this instance, of that accusation.

  JACK: You would be paying us for our ability. In good faith. To extend all our powers. To attempt to do so.

  CHARLES: In a cause in which you did not believe.

  JACK: Belief. Cannot be controlled. One believes. People are good, people are bad. God exists. Or the Mob killed Kennedy. The appearance of belief. May be induced or extorted. People may be: coerced, seduced or suborned, into momentarily acting against their beliefs.

  CHARLES: “Induced or extorted.”

  HENRY: The Law, Mr. Strickland, is not an exercise in metaphysics. But an alley fight.

  JACK: Why are you here?

  CHARLES: I want your help.

  JACK: “But—?”

  CHARLES: But I would like you to believe me.

  JACK: Why?

  CHARLES: Because I feel that would make you more effective advocates.

  JACK: Let me enlighten you. “Belief,” sir, hamstrings the advocate. Who is, then, “anchored to the facts.” I “believe” in the process. Whereby: each side is permitted. To engage an attorney. Does this find the truth? Neither side wants the truth. Each wants to prevail. Does society “deserve” the truth? Alright. Will they get it? Never. Why? As the truth is in doubt even to the litigants. Each of whom will lie first to himself, then to his attorney, and then to the court, to bring about an outcome which he deems just. Which is to say, “victory.” You understand? And, on the scaffold, the condemned man having lied to his lawyer, the judge, and himself, will then lie to God. That is the long speech. The short speech is: you came here because you think that we can help you. Perhaps we can. What can you do?

  CHARLES: Alright.

  JACK: Listen to our instructions, obey them—and cultivate the appearance of contrition.

  CHARLES: I didn’t do anything.

  HENRY: You’re white.

  (Pause.)

  CHARLES: Is that a crime?

  HENRY: In this instance.

  (Pause.)

  CHARLES: You’re kidding.

  HENRY: Sadly I am not.

  CHARLES (To Henry): Do you care that I’m white?

  HENRY: “Do I hate white folks?” Z’at your question? “Do all black people hate whites?” Let me put your mind at rest. You bet we do. White folks are “scared”? All to the good. You understand? We’re thrilled you’re guilty.

  CHARLES: I’m guilty.

  HENRY: Yes.

  CHARLES: Because I’m white.

  HENRY: No. Because of the calendar. Fifty years ago. You’re white? Same case. Same facts. You’re innocent. (Pause) This is the situation. In which you discover yourself.

  CHARLES: I understand. You’re testing me. I understand.

  HENRY: I’m not “testing” you, sir. I’m telling you the truth. Your people, if they were assured by God, that you were innocent, would sell you out.

  CHARLES: And the blacks?

  HENRY: And, to the African-American community.

  CHARLES: Alright.

  HENRY: You were found fucking one of our women.

  CHARLES: I loved her.

  HENRY: Isn’t that glorious.

  CHARLES: And she loved me.

  HENRY: Well, I guess she changed her mind.

  (Pause; he picks up a newspaper.)

  ’Cause it says here she says you raped her.

  JACK: Alright. I would say I am Jack Lawson, and this is Henry Brown. But you must know that. Because of our race. But you must pretend you do not. Must you not? Here is my question to you: why?

  CHARLES: Why?

  JACK: Yes. You know that one of us is black and one’s white. Why would you pretend to be ignorant of which of us is which?

  CHARLES: It’s a convention.

  JACK: Bravo. There exist conventions which may be: outdated, superfluous, offensive, or indeed immoral. But still remain in force. (Pause) Having been accused of having broken with convention, your problem is to win from your fellow citizens a pass. There are two ways to accomplish that. The first is to assert you were somewhere else, incompetent, coerced or framed. The second is to challenge the convention. Which do you like?

  CHARLES: I don’t like either of them.

  JACK: That’s a good start. Now pick one.

  CHARLES: Isn’t that your job?

  JACK: Well, you tell me. We’re going to roll the dice. But: you guess wrong, or we’re incompetent,
you go to jail. I get paid either way.

  CHARLES: Well, that’s blunt.

  JACK: You wanted to hire your brother-in-law. You had that option . . .

  CHARLES: I don’t have a brother-in-law.

  HENRY: You had a brother-in-law by your first marriage.

  CHARLES: Good for you.

  HENRY: I read the papers.

  JACK: Everybody reads the papers. That’s your problem.

  CHARLES: Why do you address me this way?

  JACK: “Rich as you are”?

  CHARLES: . . . alright . . .

  JACK:Why did you come to us?

  JACK: Why did you come to us?

  CHARLES: I . . .

  JACK: I assume you chose us because of our Racial Makeup. After you went to Greenstein.

  HENRY: Why did you leave Greenstein?

  JACK: Now the nickel drops.

  CHARLES: Can I rely upon your honesty?

  JACK: I don’t want you relying on our honesty.

  CHARLES: Upon what should I rely?

  HENRY: Upon our desire for Fortune and Fame.

  JACK: Why did you leave Greenstein?

  CHARLES: I didn’t like the way. He was handling the case.

  JACK: What didn’t you like about it?

  CHARLES: What difference does it make?

  JACK: Somebody who hits his first wife will hit his second wife. You know why? He’s a wife beater.

  CHARLES: I didn’t like the way that I was being treated.

  JACK: Do you have it in contention to plead guilty?

  CHARLES: Absolutely not.

  JACK: Then, free of charge? You’re going to have to drop the rich bit. (Pause) Why should we treat you better?

  HENRY: ’Cause we’re the underdog, and, you would think, we’d have to eat more of your pomposity, and believe your fake contrition.

  CHARLES: Who do you think that you’re talking to?

  HENRY: I think I’m talking to a rapist and race-criminal. And I think you didn’t play straight with Greenstein, and you’re going to pull the same trick here, and walk out on us when things get rough, and leave us looking sweet and silly. And turn to the American Public, a misunderstood man, whose lawyers do not “like” him. I don’t like you . . .

  JACK: “At some point . . .”

  HENRY: And p.s. I don’t like all this bullshit about the world is treating you unfairly, as it also treated you unfairly when you were born to wealth, but I don’t believe that you complained then—so let’s get that out upon the table now—because as it occurs to me, be assured it will occur to the jury.

  CHARLES: I want you to represent me.

  JACK: Why?

  CHARLES: Because . . .

  (Pause.)

  JACK: Go on.

  CHARLES: Because I think you can win.

  JACK: And why would you think that?

  HENRY: I don’t like it.

  CHARLES: Because you’ve won before.

  HENRY: Greenstein’s won before.

  CHARLES: But he’s white.

  HENRY: So you do understand the nature of the case.

  CHARLES: I do.

  HENRY: And do you understand that it cannot be won. Other than by dealing with the sordid?

  CHARLES: The sordid . . .

  JACK: How do you think we’ve won before?

  CHARLES: I . . .

  JACK: We have won. By being quick, and being brutal. Being fast and first, and tearing off the fucking Band-Aid.

  CHARLES: It’s very important to me, that, let me put it differently. I, of course . . .

  JACK: Mr. Strickland, save it.

  CHARLES: Save it . . .

  HENRY: The surgeon may have time. To do the operation. He does not have time, to wake the fella up, and explain what he’s going to cut.

  CHARLES: And, I: am the drugged patient . . .

  HENRY: You want me to tell you what you are? White man, rich man? You are so fucked-up out of your mind, you don’t know which comes first, Christmas or Lincoln’s Birthday. You don’t know whether to confess or go out and buy a pistol. Now, tell me, you haven’t thought about both.

  (Pause.)

  CHARLES: I am the victim. (Pause) Of a false accusation.

  HENRY: Which of us is immune?

  (Henry passes Charles a notepad.)

  JACK: Mr. Strickland. We need you to go in the outer office and write down, in effect, “everything you ever did.”

  CHARLES: I don’t understand.

  JACK: Yes, you do.

  CHARLES: You want me to write . . . ?

  JACK: I want you to write. A catalog of your sins.

  CHARLES: And what does that have to do with “the facts of this case”?

  JACK: There are no “facts of the case.” There are two fictions. Which the opposing teams each seek to impress upon the jury. That is part of the wisdom you’d be paying us for.

  CHARLES: And what is the rest?

  HENRY: Wisdom you’re paying us for, Mr. Strickland, is that you’d better fight dirtier than the prosecution.

  JACK: Why is it; poor people don’t get dragged up in the press? “Manuel went to the massage parlor . . .” “Motishia cheated on her husband . . .”

  CHARLES: Why?

  JACK: Because it ain’t gossip.

  CHARLES: “It . . . ?”

  HENRY: The legal process, Charles is only about three things.

  CHARLES: What are those three things?

  HENRY: Hatred, fear, or envy. And you just hit the trifecta.

  CHARLES: How do I win this case?

  JACK: At this moment, I’ll be goddamned if I know.

  CHARLES: Well, that’s blunt.

  JACK: Charles. Everything. Which you have taken for granted. As your right. Is about to land you in jail. Guilty or not. Do you understand? If we begin, “How dare you suggest that you can destroy me?” then the mob will raise you out.

  CHARLES: Why?

  JACK: Because it knows your name.

  HENRY: He might have to beg . . .

  (Charles shakes his head.)

  You never begged . . .

  JACK: You never begged? You were young, you never begged for pussy? You never begged the officer to let you off the D.U.I.?

  HENRY: You ever do that?

  CHARLES: I’m innocent.

  JACK: Nobody fucking cares. You understand. Nobody cares. The only way out is through, and. To get back into the world one way or the other, you’re going to have to be cleansed.

  CHARLES: Alright

  HENRY: “Alright,” meaning what?

  CHARLES: If I. Submit myself to you. What can you do for me?

  JACK: Tell him.

  HENRY: Plead to a lesser charge. Let’s see what kind of deal we can strike.

  CHARLES: Am I entitled to a defense?

  JACK: We just offered you the best one that you’re going to get.

  CHARLES: Some lawyer will take the case.

  JACK: That is correct.

  CHARLES: I want you to defend me.

  JACK: Why?

  CHARLES: Because I want to fight.

  JACK: Take the pad, and write down. Everything you’ve ever done.

  (Pause.)

  CHARLES: Alright. I understand. (He takes the pad)

  (Susan picks up Charles’s overcoat, and escorts him from the room.)

  JACK: We have to assume that he offered her money. If he offered her money why didn’t she go away? (Pause) What does she want?

  HENRY: What does she want?

  JACK: “Revenge?”

  HENRY: In which case . . . (Susan reenters)

  JACK (To Susan): He just “walked in.”

  SUSAN: That is correct. He just walked in.

  (Pause.)

  JACK: What did he say when he walked in?

  SUSAN: He told me his name and he said “perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

  HENRY: Why’d he leave Nicky Greenstein?

  JACK: You want to call him or shall I?

  HENRY: I’ll call him.
/>   (Henry picks up the phone and dials.)

  JACK: He bring anything in with him . . . a file . . . ?

  SUSAN (Shakes head): He told me his name and asked if he could speak to you.

  JACK: To me? He asked to speak to me? Uh-huh.

  HENRY (To phone): This is Hank Brown. Is he in?

  JACK (To Susan): Call Kelley. I need: a copy of the indictment.

  SUSAN: Kelley?

  JACK: And: the arrest report, write it down, and of the testimony of: the First Responding Officers.

  SUSAN: That won’t be avail . . .

  JACK: Just make the call.

  HENRY: Robert Kelley.

  JACK: . . . and the chambermaid.

  HENRY: And of the chambermaid.

  SUSAN: How would I . . . ?

  HENRY: Kelley will get it.

  JACK: I need it now. (She starts to exit. To Susan) Keep him busy. He runs out of things to write, chat him up. Make him ask you a question. Get him to, I don’t know, fill out a “client information form” . . .

  SUSAN: Is there such a . . . ?

  JACK: Just keep him out there.

  HENRY (To phone): Have him call me, will you please. Lawson and Brown. He has the number. (She hangs up)

  JACK: Wait. How does he look to you?

  SUSAN: He looked like a guilty man.

  JACK: How does a guilty man look?

  SUSAN: Furtive. False, uh.

  JACK: How would a man look, who’s been falsely accused?

  (Pause.)

  SUSAN: Yes. I see.

  JACK: Which one is he?

  (Pause.)

  SUSAN: I . . .

  (Pause.)

  Why did you send him out there?

  JACK: You tell me.

  SUSAN: To. (Pause) To establish dominance, to . . .

  HENRY: Guess again.

  SUSAN: To decide if we should take the case.

  JACK: Well, that’s right.

  SUSAN: Why would we not?

  JACK: Get Kelley. I need more information.