Of cauliflower, because quite frankly we
Have come here for a purpose. No, don’t worry.
Not what you think, that’s dead and buried. Something
Pleasant, or so at least we hope. Old man
It’s come to our attention that it’s been
Exactly-twenty three years this June, since you –
Well known to us for having operated
The lunchroom in one of our establishments for
More than three decades – left us to devote
Your talents to the welfare of this city.
Yes, without you our town would not be what
It is today. Nor, like the city, would
The Trust have prospered as it has. I’m glad
To hear you call it sound, for yesterday
Moved by this festive occasion, we resolved
In token of our high esteem, as proof
That in our hearts we somehow still regard you
As one of us, to offer you the major share
Of stock in Sheet’s shipyard for twenty thousand
Dollars, or less than half its value.
He lays the packet of stocks on the bar.
DOGSBOROUGH: I
Don’t understand.
BUTCHER: Quite frankly, Dogsborough
The Cauliflower Trust is not reputed
For tenderness of heart, but yesterday
After we’d made our … well, our
Stupid request about the loan, and heard
Your answer, honest, incorruptible
Old Dogsborough to a hair, a few of us –
It’s not an easy thing to say – were close
To tears. Yes, one man said – don’t interrupt
Me, Flake, I won’t say who – ‘Good God’
He said, ‘the man has saved us from ourselves.’
For some time none of us could speak. Then this
Suggestion popped up of its own accord.
DOGSBOROUGH:
I’ve heard you, friends. But what is there behind it?
BUTCHER: What should there be behind it? It’s an offer.
FLAKE: And one that we are really pleased to make.
For here you stand behind your bar, a tower
Of strength, a sterling name, the model of
An upright citizen. We find you washing
Glasses, but you have cleansed our souls as well.
And yet you’re poorer than your poorest guest.
It wrings our hearts.
DOGSBOROUGH: I don’t know what to say.
BUTCHER: Don’t say a word. Just take this little package.
An honest man can use it, don’t you think?
By golly, it’s not often that the gravy train
Travels the straight and narrow. Take your boy here:
I know a good name’s better than a bank
Account, and yet I’m sure he won’t despise it.
Just take the stuff and let us hope you won’t
Read us the riot act for this!
DOGSBOROUGH: Sheet’s shipyard!
FLAKE: Look, you can see it from right here.
DOGSBOROUGH, at the window: I’ve seen it
For twenty years.
FLAKE: We thought of that.
DOGSBOROUGH: And what is
Sheet going to do?
FLAKE: He’s moving into beer.
BUTCHER: Okay?
DOGSBOROUGH: I certainly appreciate
Your oldtime sentiments, but no one gives
Away a shipyard for a song.
FLAKE: There’s something
In that. But now the loan has fallen through
Maybe the twenty thousand will come in handy.
BUTCHER: And possibly right now we’re not too eager
To throw our stock upon the open market…
DOGSBOROUGH: That sounds more like it. Not a bad deal if
It’s got no strings attached.
FLAKE: None whatsoever.
DOGSBOROUGH: The price you say is twenty thousand?
FLAKE: Is it
Too much?
DOGSBOROUGH: No. And imagine, it’s the selfsame
Shipyard where years ago I opened my first lunchroom.
As long as there’s no nigger in the woodpile …
You’ve really given up the loan?
FLAKE: Completely.
DOGSBOROUGH: I might consider it. Hey, look here, son
It’s just the thing for you. I thought you fellows
Were down on me and here you make this offer.
You see, my boy, that honesty sometimes
Pays off. It’s like you say: When I pass on
The youngster won’t inherit much more than
My name, and these old eyes have seen what evil
Can spring from penury.
BUTCHER: We’ll feel much better
If you accept. The ugly aftertaste
Left by our foolish proposition would be
Dispelled. In future we could benefit
By your advice. You’d show us how to ride
The slump by honest means, because our business
Would be your business, Dogsborough, because
You too would be a cauliflower man
And want the Cauliflower Trust to win.
Dogsborough takes his hand.
DOGSBOROUGH: Butcher and Flake, I’m in.
YOUNG DOGSBOROUGH: My father’s in.
A sign appears.
3
Bookmaker’s office on 122nd Street. Arturo Ui and his lieutenant Ernesto Roma, accompanied by bodyguards, are listening to the racing news on the radio. Next to Roma is Dockdaisy.
ROMA: I wish, Arturo, you could cure yourself
Of this black melancholy, this inactive
Dreaming. The whole town’s talking.
UI, bitterly: Talking? Who’s talking?
Nobody talks about me any more.
This city’s got no memory. Short-lived
Is fame in such a place. Two months without
A murder, and a man’s forgotten.
He whisks through the newspapers.
When
The rod falls silent, silence strikes the press.
Even when I deliver murders by the
Dozen, I’m never sure they’ll print them.
It’s not accomplishment that counts; it’s
Influence, which in turn depends on my
Bank balance. Things have come to such a pass
I sometimes think of chucking the whole business.
ROMA: The boys are chafing too from lack of cash.
Morale is low. This inactivity’s
No good for them. A man with nothing but
The ace of spades to shoot at goes to seed.
I feel so sorry for those boys, Arturo
I hate to show my face at headquarters. When
They look at me, my ‘Tomorrow we’ll see action’
Sticks in my throat. Your vegetables idea was
So promising. Why don’t we start right in?
UI: Not now. Not from the bottom. It’s too soon.
ROMA: ‘Too soon’ is good. For four months now–
Remember? – since the Cauliflower Trust
Gave you the brush-off, you’ve been idly brooding.
Plans! Plans! Half-hearted feelers! That rebuff
Frizzled your spine. And then that little mishap –
Those cops at Harper’s Bank – you’ve never gotten
Over it.
UI: But they fired!
ROMA: Only in
The air. That was illegal.
UI: Still too close
For me. I’d be in stir if they had plugged
My only witness. And that judge! Not two
Cent’s worth of sympathy.
ROMA: The cops won’t shoot
For grocery stores. They shoot for banks. Look here
Arturo, we’ll start on Eleventh Street
Smash a few windows, wre
ck the furniture
Pour kerosene on the veg. And then we work
Our way to Seventh. Two or three days later
Giri, a posy in his buttonhole
Drops in and offers our protection for
A suitable percentage on their sales.
UI: No. First I need protection for myself
From cops and judges. Then I’ll start to think
About protecting other people. We’ve
Got to start from the top.
Gloomily:
Until I’ve put the
Judge in my pocket by slipping something
Of mine in his, the law’s against me. I
Can’t even rob a bank without some two-bit cop
Shooting me dead.
ROMA: You’re right. Our only hope is
Givola’s plan. He’s got a nose for smells
And if he says the Cauliflower Trust
Smells promisingly rotten, I believe
There’s something in it. And there was some talk
When, as they say, on Dogsborough’s commendation
The city made that loan. Since then I’ve heard
Rumours about some docks that aren’t being built
But ought to be. Yet on the other hand
Dogsborough recommended it. Why should
That do-good peg for fishy business? Here comes
Ragg of the ‘Star’. If anybody knows
About such things, it’s him. Hi Ted.
RAGG, slightly drunk: Hi, boys!
Hi, Roma! Hi, Arturo! How are things in
Capua?
UI: What’s he saying?
RAGG: Oh, nothing much.
That was a one-horse town where long ago
An army went to pot from idleness
And easy living.
UI: Go to hell!
ROMA, to Ragg: No fighting.
Tell us about that loan the Cauliflower
Trust wangled.
RAGG: What do you care? Say! Could you
Be going into vegetables? I’ve got it!
You’re angling for a loan yourselves. See Dogsborough.
He’ll put it through.
Imitating the old man:
‘Can we allow a business
Basically sound but momentarily
Threatened with blight, to perish?’ Not an eye
At City Hall but fills with tears. Deep feeling
For cauliflower shakes the council members
As though it were a portion of themselves.
Too bad, Arturo, guns call forth no tears.
The other customers laugh.
ROMA: Don’t bug him, Ted. He’s out of sorts.
RAGG: I shouldn’t
Wonder. I hear that Givola has been
To see Capone for a job.
DOCKDAISY: You liar!
You leave Giuseppe out of this!
RAGG: Hi, Dockdaisy!
Still got your place in Shorty Givola’s harem?
Introducing her:
Fourth super in the harem of the third
Lieutenant of a –
Points to Ui.
– fast declining star
Of second magnitude! Oh, bitter fate!
DOCKDAISY: Somebody shut the rotten bastard up!
RAGG: Posterity plaits no laurels for the gangster!
New heroes captivate the fickle crowd.
Yesterday’s hero has been long forgotten
His mug-shot gathers dust in ancient files.
‘Don’t you remember, folks, the wounds I gave you?’ –
‘When?’ – ‘Once upon a time.’ – ‘Those wounds have
Turned to scars long since.’ Alas, the finest scars
Get lost with those who bear them. ‘Can it be
That in a world where good deeds go unnoticed
No monument remains to evil ones?’ –
‘Yes, so it is.’ – ‘Oh, lousy world!’
UI, bellows: Shut
Him up!
The bodyguards approach Ragg.
RAGG, turning pale: Be careful, Ui. Don’t insult
The press.
The other customers have risen to their feet in alarm.
ROMA: You’d better beat it, Ted. You’ve said
Too much already.
RAGG, backing out, now very much afraid:
See you later, boys.
The room empties quickly.
ROMA: Your nerves are shot, Arturo.
UI: Those bastards
Treat me like dirt.
ROMA: Because of your long silence.
No other reason.
UI, gloomily: Say, what’s keeping Giri
And that accountant from the Cauliflower
Trust?
ROMA: They were due at three.
UI: And Givola?
What’s this I hear about him seeing Capone?
ROMA: Nothing at all. He’s in his flower shop
Minding his business, and Capone comes in
To buy some wreaths.
UI: Some wreaths? For who?
ROMA: Not us.
UI: I’m not so sure.
ROMA: You’re seeing things too black.
Nobody’s interested in us.
UI: Exactly.
They’ve more respect for dirt. Take Givola.
One setback and he blows. By God
I’ll settle his account when things look up.
ROMA: Giri!
Enter Emanuele Giri with a rundown individual, Bowl.
GIRI: I’ve got him, boss.
ROMA, to Bowl: They tell me you
Are Sheet’s accountant at the Cauliflower
Trust.
BOWL: Was. Until last week that bastard …
GIRI: He hates the very smell of cauliflower.
BOWL: Dogsborough …
UI, quickly: Dogsborough! What about him?
ROMA: What have you got to do with Dogsborough?
GIRI: That’s why I brought him.
BOWL: Dogsborough
Fired me.
ROMA: He fired you? From Sheet’s shipyard?
BOWL: No, from his own. He took it over on
September first.
ROMA: What’s that?
GIRI: Sheet’s shipyard
Belongs to Dogsborough. Bowl here was present
When Butcher of the Cauliflower Trust
Handed him fifty-one percent of the stock.
BOWL: So what? It’s scandalous …
GIRI: Don’t you
Get it, boss?
BOWL: … Dogsborough sponsoring that
Loan to the Cauliflower Trust…
GIRI: … when he
Himself was secretly a member of
The Cauliflower Trust.
UI, who is beginning to see the light:
Say, that’s corrupt.
By God the old man hasn’t kept his nose
Too clean.
BOWL: The loan was to the Cauliflower
Trust, but they did it through the shipyard. Through
Me. And I signed for Dogsborough. Not for Sheet
As people thought.
GIRI: By golly, it’s a killer.
Old Dogsborough. The trusty and reliable
Signboard. So honest. So responsible!
Whose handshake was an honour and a pledge!
The staunch and incorruptible old man!
BOWL: I’ll make the bastard pay. Can you imagine?
Firing me for embezzlement when he himself …
ROMA: Cool it! You’re not the only one whose blood
Boils at such abject villainy. What do
You say, Arturo?
UI, referring to Bowl:
Will he testify?
GIRI: He’ll testify.
UI, grandly getting ready to leave:
Keep an eye on him, boys. Let’s go
Roma. I smell an opening.
He goes out quickly, followed by Ernesto Roma and the bodyg
uards.
GIRI, slaps Bowl on the back: Bowl, I
Believe you’ve set a wheel in motion, which …
BOWL: I hope you’ll pay me back for any loss …
GIRI: Don’t worry about that. I know the boss.
A sign appears.
4
Dogsborough’s country house. Dogsborough and his son.
DOGSBOROUGH: I should never have accepted this estate.
Taking that package as a kind of gift was
Beyond reproach.
YOUNG DOGSBOROUGH: Of course it was.
DOGSBOROUGH: And sponsoring
That loan, when I discovered to my own
Detriment that a thriving line of business
Was languishing for lack of funds, was hardly
Dishonest. But when, confident the shipyard
Would yield a handsome profit, I accepted
This house before I moved the loan, so secretly
Acting in my own interest – that was wrong.
YOUNG DOGSBOROUGH: Yes, father.
DOGSBOROUGH: That was faulty judgment
Or might be so regarded. Yes, my boy
I should never have accepted this estate.
YOUNG DOGSBOROUGH: No.
DOGSBOROUGH: We’ve stepped into a trap.
YOUNG DOGSBOROUGH: Yes, father.
DOGSBOROUGH: That
Package of stocks was like the salty titbit
They serve free gratis at the bar to make
The customer, appeasing his cheap hunger
Work up a raging thirst.
Pause.
That inquiry
At City Hall about the docks, has got
Me down. The loan’s used up. Clark helped
Himself; so did Caruther, Flake and Butcher
And so, I’m sad to say, did I. And no
Cement’s been bought yet, not a pound! The one
Good thing is this: at Sheet’s request I kept
The deal a secret; no one knows of my
Connection with the shipyard.
A BUTLER enters: Telephone
Sir, Mr Butcher of the Cauliflower
Trust.
DOGSBOROUGH: Take it, son.
Young Dogsborough goes out with the Butler. Church bells are heard in the distance.
DOGSBOROUGH: Now what can Butcher want?
Looking out of the window.
Those poplars are what tempted me to take
The place. The poplars and the lake down there, like
Silver before it’s minted into dollars.
And air that’s free of beer fumes. The fir trees
Are good to look at too, especially
The tops. Grey-green and dusty. And the trunks –
Their colour calls to mind the leathers we used to wrap
around
The taps when drawing beer. It was the poplars, though
That turned the trick. Ah yes, the poplars.
It’s Sunday. Hm. The bells would sound so peaceful
If the world were not so full of wickedness.