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Fifteen Men In A Smoke-Filled Room - A Tragedy in Six Scenes
WARREN G. HARDING: Senator from Ohio, about 55, a wearied, good man searching for simplicity in life
FLORENCE KLING HARDING: Harding’s wife, about 60, an acerbic and domineering woman who worships the stars
HARRY M.
DAUGHERTY: Harding’s campaign manager, about 60, an ambitious politico trapped in his own Machiavellianism
NAN BRITTON: Harding’s mistress, about 25, an immature cherub who destroys as much as she builds with her childishness
Additional Middle-Aged Actor to play -
GEORGE HARVEY: Editor of the North American Review
WAITER
RADIO BROADCASTER
TIME
The Night of Friday, June 11th, 1920
LOCATION
The Florentine Room and the Restaurant of the Congress Hotel in Chicago, IL
SCENE ONE
LIGHTS – Rise generally.
SOUND – The SINGING of THE REPUBLICAN GLEE CLUB OF COLUMBUS drifts into the room from the streets below and through the Balcony Door.
A lingering pause.
Suddenly, the Hall Door opens. HARRY
DAUGHERTY brusquely enters like a charging elephant with tusks gleaming. Very much a man on a mission, HE rushes over to the phone, puts the receiver to HIS ear, walks with the phone to the couch, plops HIMSELF down, and waits for the operator to answer.
After such a flurry of movement, we are finally able to catch a brief glimpse of this determined breeze before HE becomes a moving blur again: HARRY
DAUGHERTY is a moderately overweight man aged about 60 with a bloated face that seems to have been barely squeezed through his collar. HIS hair is white and receding with desperate traces of gray trying to make their case heard amid the winter of age. HIS dress is business-like and unimaginative: the one bit of color on HIS person is a round pin reading “Harding for President.”
As the Harding campaign manager,
DAUGHERTY is quite simply the purest paragon of that brilliant and unscrupulous kingmaker who so often becomes the stuff of political legend. HE is a man who has positively no time whatsoever for rainbows but all the time in the world for what waits at the end of them.
Meanwhile, the operator has answered the phone:
DAUGHERTY
Hello, operator? Get me the LaSalle.
DAUGHERTY waits.
SOUND – The GLEE CLUB reigns in the silence of the moment.
DAUGHERTY turns toward the direction of the sound with annoyance before being distracted by a voice on the phone:
DAUGHERTY
Yes, connect me to the room of Jack Hamon.
DAUGHERTY holds.
SOUND – The GLEE CLUB again reigns.
Fed up, DAUGHERTY puts the phone down on the coffee table, stomps over to the Balcony Door, shuts it in frustration, and freezes. Evidently, HE spies something outside on the busy Chicago streets that disagrees with HIM.
DAUGHERTY (A mere mumble.) Son of a…
SOUND – A FAINT VOICE calling from somewhere.
Hearing this, DAUGHERTY turns and discovers that this faint voice is coming from the mouthpiece of the phone. With great speed, HE rushes over to the couch, sits, picks up the receiver, and:
DAUGHERTY Jack? Daugherty here. Now how are you and where the hell is Emmerson? He’s not in the Lowden suite and he isn’t… Campaigning? Still? What for? Four ballots and his man hasn’t gotten anywhere. He should be praying. Listen, I need you to pass on a message for me… About what? The economy, Jack. The free market of far-from-free favors. You, Emmerson, and I need to discuss the returns on all those votes lent you by the Harding camp so that your man Lowden could keep neck-and-neck with General Wood in the balloting… Oh, now, don’t use that word, Jack. It’s not a nice word. God would not like it… Don’t quote the Bible to me, Jack. I don’t give a damn about Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. I only care about Harding, Wood, Lowden, and Johnson – in that order. And speaking of Harding… Sorry, Jack, but your man Lowden had his chance. It’s time for the bank to call in the loan. You defaulted on your interest. The voters aren’t interested. Now you’ve got to do the honorable thing. I hear it’s very big in Japan… No, it’s perfectly fair, Jack. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. That’s
HARRY – Day Four, Ballot Four.
DAUGHERTY abruptly hangs up. The wide grin upon HIS face indicates HE is immensely pleased with himself. Ever bustling, HE hurriedly picks up the receiver again, waits for the operator to answer, and:
DAUGHERTY Get me the lobby of the Congress Hotel.
A pause: DAUGHERTY turns and checks the Grandfather Clock.
DAUGHERTY Yes, is this the concierge? Is there a man standing by your desk wearing a “Harding for President” button?... Well, put him on, would you?
A pause:
DAUGHERTY rises and walks to the Balcony Door.
DAUGHERTY
Malcolm. Sorry about the delay. Had to give Jack Hamon the two-minute warning. Now how’s it going down there? Any problems? You keeping on your toes?... Good. I’m glad to hear it. Now do me a favor. Look outside the front of the hotel. Tell me what you see.
A pause: DAUGHERTY looks out on Chicago.
DAUGHERTY
Can’t quite get a glimpse, huh? Well, then, listen.
DAUGHERTY opens the Balcony Door.
SOUND – SOUSA-STYLE BAND MUSIC blares into the room. Under it tiptoes the faint and pathetic SINGING of the GLEE CLUB.
DAUGHERTY thrusts the phone out into the hot Chicago air so that the music comes in loud and clear on the other line. After a pause, HE brings the receiver back inside the room and resumes the conversation.
DAUGHERTY (Shouting, above the music.) What do you think of that, Malcolm?... “What do you know?” Is that all you have to say? Well, I’ll tell you what I know. I know it’s not our band playing out there. I know we don’t even have a goddamn band.
DAUGHERTY closes the Balcony Door.
SOUND – An immediate lowering of volume. The SOUSA MUSIC continues very softly for a little bit underneath the following before it gradually disappears.
DAUGHERTY
Yes, I know we have the Glee Club. But what’s the point of the damn thing if Lowden’s brass band is there to blast it into Lake Michigan? The morning papers will have a field day drawing a link between the smiting of Harding’s singers and the smiting of Harding’s candidacy. Just see that the Glee Club wrings hearts and votes from inside buildings where no brass band can blow them away. Now, have you been watching Hynicka like I told you to?
SOUND – A knock.
DAUGHERTY turns to face the Hall Door.
DAUGHERTY Who is it?
GEORGE HARVEY sticks HIS head in.
HARVEY Santa Claus.
HARVEY is the middle-aged editor of the North American Review.
DAUGHERTY Ah, George! Come on in. I was just finishing on the phone.
HARVEY enters.
HARVEY Oh, don’t rush on my account. If it’s an emergency…
DAUGHERTY (Quickly.) No, no – no emergency. Just annoyances. Make yourself at home. I’ll be through in a second.
HARVEY smiles in return. As
DAUGHERTY continues on the phone, HARVEY proceeds to examine the room with superficial interest. Throughout the following, HE listens subtly to every little word
DAUGHERTY utters – and
DAUGHERTY knows it.
DAUGHERTY
(Into the phone, speaking with great care.) Now, Malcolm, about Hynicka… No, no, no – just keep an eye on him. Just… No, you don’t have to rush. It’s not a big problem, Malcolm. It’s a minor little hiccup. I just want to fix these little…
HE becomes conscious of the fact that HARVEY is staring at HIM.
DAUGHERTY
Annoyances. I know you’ll clear them up for me. You’ve done a wonderful job so far. Keep up the good work. Goodbye.
HE swiftly hangs up and turns to HARVEY.
HARVEY Problems, Harry?
DAUGHERTY
No, no, merely…
HARVEY Annoyances?
DAUGHERTY
Annoyances.
HARVEY
How’s your man Harding doing? I saw him in the elevator a few hours ago. He looked a bit like a Negro caught drinking from the wrong water fountain.
DAUGHERTY stares glumly.
DAUGHERTY Well, it’s a trying time, George – for all of us.
HARVEY All of us, yes. But for only one is the exhaustion worth it. Now, who will it be?
DAUGHERTY You know my opinion.
HARVEY
Some would say your opinion is a fairy tale.
DAUGHERTY scoffs.
HARVEY
Oh? First Ballot – Harding: 65 and a half votes. Fourth Ballot – Harding: 61 and a half votes. Four-hundred ninety-three votes needed for the nomination. Do you believe in elves, as well?
DAUGHERTY smiles stiffly. HARVEY continues to tour the room.
HARVEY
There is also a lot of betting going on. The odds are quite telling. Seven to five for Wood. Eight to five for Lowden. Three to one for Johnson. Four to one for Hoover. Five to one for Hughes. Eight to one for Harding.
(Quickly turning to AUGHERTY.)
How about goblins?
DAUGHERTY just stares.
HARVEY
Now, Harry. Help me out here. Will you help me out?
DAUGHERTY says nothing.
HARVEY
I want you to advise me who to put my money on and why I should put it there.
DAUGHERTY
(Feeling things out.)
And who wants to know this? Just you?
HARVEY
Me and some… friends.
DAUGHERTY
Of yours?
HARVEY
Of us all.
DAUGHERTY
Well, it will be Harding, George.
HARVEY
Will it? With Wood and Lowden and…
DAUGHERTY
You know as well as I do that Lowden and Wood are both cowards afraid to expose their Achilles’s heel. They’ve spent the whole damn convention throwing childish insults at each other in the hope that one will tear up and run crying from the playground. Well, people will inevitably get fed up with that pussyfooting filibuster and the convention members will call for a compromise candidate to be found. That is when Warren G. Harding will prove to you that elves and goblins and whatever else you care to name might just exist after all.
HARVEY
All right, all right. Fair enough,
HARRY. I know you too well not to take you seriously. With your managing him, Harding is a contender. However, as president…
DAUGHERTY
As president he will examine each situation carefully and act accordingly.
HARVEY
You mean – as others tell him to?
DAUGHERTY
I mean he will examine each situation carefully…
DAUGHERTY, HARVEY
And act accordingly.
HARVEY
You sound very sure of yourself.
DAUGHERTY
Is there any other way to sound in our business? Listen to me, George. Harding will win. It is fated to happen. He is everyone’s friend and no one’s enemy. He is impossible to hate and necessary to love. He has voted yea on every winning proposal. He has voted nay on every failing proposal. His whole damn record is spotless. He is, in short…
HARVEY
Yours.
DAUGHERTY
Ours.
HARVEY searches DAUGHERTY’s face and smiles.
HARVEY
I’m glad to hear your mother taught you to share.
DAUGHERTY
My mother also told me to be wary of Greeks bearing gifts.
HARVEY
Oh, now, Harry! I don’t speak a word of Greek. I think the Parthenon is a race track. I think Pericles is a condition.
HARVEY considers the stalwart DAUGHERTY for a minute.
HARVEY
Well. Thank you for the commercial, Harry. My friends will like what they’ve heard. However, there are still some other concerns…
DAUGHERTY glares: “Such as?”
HARVEY
Those rumors of marital infidelity.
DAUGHERTY
Well, now, George…
HARVEY
The name Carrie Phillips leaps to mind.
DAUGHERTY
When I’m through, the name Carrie Phillips won’t even be able to climb there. Mrs. Phillips is soon to be sent on an all-expenses-paid trip around the world with her husband. We need him to investigate the complications of the raw silk trade. No doubt he will serve his country bravely.
HARVEY
No doubt. And this will happen how soon?
DAUGHERTY
As soon as the Senator is nominated.
HARVEY
And when they return? What then?
DAUGHERTY
Nothing other than the occasional checks that pass between friends.
A long pause. HARVEY and DAUGHERTY stare at EACH OTHER.
DAUGHERTY
Well, if I have satisfied your curiosity…
HARVEY
Not completely. There’s still one more itty-bitty hiccup… Mrs. Harding.
DAUGHERTY
(Suspiciously.)
Yes. What’s the problem?
HARVEY
It is rumored in Washington that she has great influence over the Senator.
DAUGHERTY
That she does and it is well deserved. She is an extremely intelligent woman.
HARVEY
Intelligent, no doubt. Extremely intelligent. However, the rumors don’t stop there. You see, it is also rumored that she has a tendency to sneak out of her Washington home under the cover of night to meet with…
HARVEY catches DAUGHERTY’s glower.
HARVEY
People.
DAUGHERTY
It is a natural social custom.
HARVEY
No, I mean… certain people.
DAUGHERTY noticeably tenses.
HARVEY
You see, it is generally felt that these certain people have a negative influence on Mrs. Harding. Now her being such an influence on her husband…
DAUGHERTY
Senator Harding will lead according to the dictates of his own conscience.
HARVEY
But who will play the part of Senator Harding’s conscience in this torrid political drama? You – as you assume – or Mrs. Harding? My friends and I just want to be assured of what we are getting.
DAUGHERTY blooms a grin.
HARVEY
(Quickly correcting himself.)
Of what we might be getting… if elves are real.
DAUGHERTY snorts with derision.
HARVEY
(Suddenly very serious.)
Tell me frankly, Harry. No games, no jokes. If Mrs. Harding becomes first lady, who will control her?
A tense pause.
DAUGHERTY(Assuredly, looking HARVEY straight in the eyes.)
I will.
An amused smile gradually blossoms on HARVEY’s face.
HARVEY
Will you now?
MRS. HARDING’S VOICE
Will he now what, Mr. Harvey?
HARVEY and DAUGHERTY turn to find FLORENCE KLING HARDING standing in the doorframe of the Connecting Door. Aged about 60, MRS. HARDING is a formidable presence indeed – but not in appearance. HER face looks like a dried leaf, HER eyes are lazy and framed by dainty glasses, and HER brown, short, slightly curled hair lies lazily atop HER head like a sleeping fox. Attire-wise, MRS. HARDING does no better: SHE is dressed in outdated dress from the late Nineteenth Century that would be more appropriate for a hot day on the farmer’s porch than for a political convention.
In HER hands, SHE carries a knitted work-in-progress from which glistening knitting needles stick out visibly like daggers. Indeed, it is this object which more clearly delineates the nature of the woman. Far from grandmotherly, MRS. HARDING is a battlefield general often called either “Boss” or “Ma” or “Duchess” by those close to HER. A constant crier of orders, SHE is known for her annoyingly high-pitched screech and its relatively constant direction towards her henpecked husband – whose name she painfully pronounces ‘Wuuuuurren.’
HARVEY
(A sudden salesman’s grin.)
Ah, Mrs. Harding!
DAUGHERTY
(Bowing to HER as if to royalty.)
Duchess.
MRS. HARDING
(Looking HIM over coldly and calmly.)
Lawyer.
(To HARVEY.)
And – praise the stars – Mr. George Harvey. Editor of the North American Review. Another old buzzard come to circle my husband’s campaign?
HARVEY
Hardly, Mrs. Harding. Merely a fan and an admirer.
MRS. HARDING
Here for the nomination party, then? Well, come join the crowd, Mr. Harvey. I’m afraid this is all we could muster for the occasion. All the other lemmings are in Senator Johnson’s suite. It’s just you, Mr. Daugherty, myself, and my husband here tonight. Oh, yes, and Governor Lowden’s brass band. How could I ever forget? They have kindly offered us a free funeral march.
MRS. HARDING gives a glum look and heads for the couch. During what follows, SHE sits and begins knitting vociferously. Indeed, one wonders whether SHE is knitting the yarn or killing it.
HARVEY
Fear not, Mrs. Harding. Your husband still has a chance.
MRS. HARDING
Well, you can tell that to him yourself, Mr. Harvey. I so hate to break a commandment. Wait, wait, and Wurren will be in in a minute. It takes him a while to drag his face behind him.
HARVEY
Stress, no doubt.
MRS. HARDING
Age, no doubt, Mr. Harvey. I trust you remember age. It evidently remembers you. It’s damn near obsessed with me and Wurren. And as for Mr. Daugherty, he doesn’t age, he distills.
HARVEY laughs.
MRS. HARDING
(To DAUGHERTY.)
Isn’t that right, Mr. Daugherty?
(To HARVEY, not waiting for a response.)
Mr. Daugherty is an expert, Mr. Harvey. He’s a plotter and a planner and a conjurer extraordinaire. He has a Midas touch on him like you’ve never seen. Problem is that he also has a poisoned finger. His only occasional slip-ups are when he mistakenly uses his poisoned finger for his Midas touch.
SHE looks ruefully at DAUGHERTY.
DAUGHERTY
(A weak smile.)
The Duchess knows me well, George.
HARVEY
So I can see!
MRS. HARDING
I know everyone and everything and don’t you forget it, Mr. Daugherty. My ear lies there on the ground right beside your conscience. Sometimes I even talk to the lonely little thing when I’m down there. Yes, I talk to him and say:
(Bending down, talking to the floor.)
Where have you been? Come up and visit sometime.
DAUGHERTY
(Sotto voice, indicating HARVEY.)
Please, Duchess.
MRS. HARDING
Oh, Mr. Harvey. Are you still here? Please don’t let us keep you. Surely you have other campaigns to visit. I suggest you go see General Wood. I’m sure his company will be much merrier than ours.
HARVEY
Perhaps not for long, Mrs. Harding.
HARVEY makes to exit.
MRS. HARDING
Oh and one more thing, Mr. Harvey…
HARVEY
(Turning.)
Mrs. Harding?
MRS. HARDING
On your way out, would you be so kind as to give this to Governor Lowden’s band?
SHE throws HARVEY a coin.
MRS. HARDING
Ask them if they know any Chopin.
SHE gives HARVEY a wry look. HE grins back at HER. An unhappy
DAUGHERTY breaks the moment by quickly taking HARVEY by the arm and rushing HIM to the Hall Door.
DAUGHERTY
Come along now, George.
HARVEY
(Calling back to MRS. HARDING.)
Goodbye, Mrs. Harding.
Back to HER knitting, MRS. HARDING looks up and serenely nods in response.
DAUGHERTY
(Secretively to HARVEY.)
I’m sorry about all that, George.
HARVEY
You control her masterfully.
DAUGHERTY
What will you tell your “friends?” You won’t…
HARVEY
I will consider the situation carefully and act accordingly.
DAUGHERTY
Oh, that’s all right, then.
DAUGHERTY opens the Hall Door.
HARVEY
By the way, it might help if you to stop by. My friends always like surprise company. Especially if they expect it. Suite four-oh-four. The Hotel Blackstone. Come up and visit sometime.
(Looking down at DAUGHERTY’s “conscience.”)
Not you!
HARVEY looks up and laughs. DAUGHERTY is not amused. Shrugging, HARVEY walks out the Hall Door. But just before DAUGHERTY closes it…
HARVEY’S VOICE
Oh, Mrs. Harding?
MRS. HARDING looks up. HARVEY tosses the coin back to HER through the Hall Door. SHE catches it like a baseball pro.
HARVEY’S VOICE
I don’t think we’ll need any Chopin tonight. Give my regards to your husband.
HARVEY exits down the hall. DAUGHERTY closes the Hall Door.
A pause: DAUGHERTY and MRS. HARDING remain frozen for a moment.
END OF SCENE ONE.
SCENE TWO
PLACE: The Florentine Room.
TIME: Immediately following.
CONT. FROM SCENE 1: MRS. HARDING and DAUGHERTY are looking after the departed figure of HARVEY. After a question-mark pause, MRS. HARDING sharply turns to
DAUGHERTY and:
MRS. HARDING
Well? Was that what I think it was?
DAUGHERTY
Yes. Yes, it was, Duchess.
MRS. HARDING
And, Wells Fargo? Did you sell him the goods?
DAUGHERTY
I don’t know. I think so.
MRS. HARDING
You think as well, do you?
DAUGHERTY
I just can’t believe they sent Harvey. What about Brandegee? What about Watson?
MRS. HARDING
I take it, Mr. Daugherty, you’re not one of Mr. Harvey’s readers. No, I dare say you’ve never read any political journal. That would be like God studying the Bible – completely unnecessary. Why what else are you two but a clash of kingmakers? You want to make a president and he already has. Now he’s trying desperately to get rid of the monster he created. Is that the way you operate too, Lawyer? When all is said and done, will you turn your back on Wurren and me the same way Harvey turned his back on Wilson?
DAUGHERTY
Now, Duchess, I am very close to the Senator.
MRS. HARDING
You have to be to stab someone in the back.
DAUGHERTY coughs and nods. MRS. HARDING turns.
WARREN G. HARDING has just entered through the Connecting Door. We notice the room seems to clear immediately of its crisp political formality upon HIS entrance. Something in the informal, jovial, everyman manner of HARDING has the ability to turn the serious into the serene. Part of this has to do with HIS relaxed attire: no jacket, a sweat-stained shirt, a loose tie, suspenders, pants, old shoes. To complement this, HIS jowls are lined with stubble, HIS white hair is ruffled, HIS eyes look drawn and weary, and HIS face seems to sag in a very human way. However, despite this most unregal appearance, HARDING’s manner and bearing still retain enough of that Roman grandeur to maintain the power of HIS presence. Currently, though, HE seems like an overworked dirt farmer whose best days are behind him and whose future is nothing but years of endless sowing – and HE knows it.
HARDING
(Lifelessly.)
Harry. Ma.
HARDING lazily crosses to the Balcony Door, opens it, takes in the breeze, and looks out upon Chicago.
SOUND – LOWDEN’S BRASS BAND blares in the distance.
MRS. HARDING
(During the above.)
Well, well, well! Look who we have here. The next president comes. Hail to the Chief. Chief Sittin’ Still. Just where have you been at, Chief? Don’t you know that George Harvey was in here a few minutes ago? He had some business about you and you should have been here to chat him up. But oh, no, you were out wandering from the wigwam. Fighting the windmills again, were you, Chief?
HARDING
I’m sorry, Ma.
MRS. HARDING
Honest to gracious! You’re like an inept salesman who goes around knocking on gopher holes. You won’t sell a brush let alone yourself that way. You need to throw a match on the woodpile, Wurren Harding. You need to light the dry timbers of your ambition. The other candidates are running for office and you’re merely strolling there. It’s no wonder you’re left whimpering in the dust on all the ballots like the sagging rear of an old horse. The only way you can catch up now is to grab hold of the nearest comet. Oh and – praise the stars – close that door! It’s hotter than Hell in here already.
With pathetic weariness, HARDING obeys and closes the Balcony Door.
[end of extract]
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