Part 7
MARTIN. Good, good. Peale, I’ve got to go out on an important soap deal. (_He starts to go, then goes to PEALE_) Oh, by George, I nearly forgot. There’s another matter I must attend to first. Peale, you’ll find the Countess in there. Do the best you can—we’ll settle the details when I get back. Make yourself at home.
PEALE. Sure. This cigar’s great company.
MARTIN. Good cigar, eh?
PEALE. Corker.
MARTIN. Johnson, send over half a dozen boxes of these cigars to Mr. Peale’s house. He’ll give you the address. (_He exits left_)
PEALE. And, say, Johnson, wrap ’em up now and I’ll take ’em with me.
JOHNSON. Very good, sir. (_He exits. PEALE walks over to the window and looks out at the 13 Soap signs_)
PEALE. (_The telephone rings. PEALE looks at it, it rings again, he goes over to desk and raises it_) Yes, Sweetie—this is the garage. How long does it take to go to Coney Island? How in hell do I know? (_Business of changing money and watch to different pockets. Goes to door L., and opens it_) Countess de Bull Run. (_He goes into some fake French_) De juis—de joie—politesse noblesse oblige.
COUNTESS. You ought to take up French—your accent’s immense. Well, little sweetheart?
PEALE. Say, what are you doing in these parts?
COUNTESS. Oh, I came to see Mr. Martin.
PEALE. What for?
COUNTESS. What do you think?
PEALE. See here, now, if you’re aiming to trim the old man, I won’t stand for it.
COUNTESS. Ambrose, do me a favor.
PEALE. What is it?
COUNTESS. Don’t tell old Martin what I tried to do to you boys. He’s the kind that would put me in jail. I’ll be on the level. I did come here to try to trim him, but I’ll cut it out. Honest, I will. Oh, Ambrose, I don’t like being a grafter. I’ve had to do a lot of things I didn’t want to. You don’t know how hard it is for girls like me. I never had a show. I ran away from home when I was a kid. I’ve been pretty much up against it. Is what I’ve done to other guys going to butt in and queer me?
PEALE. Nix, nix——
COUNTESS. Give me a chance to be on the square. It ain’t easy for a girl to fight it out all by herself when she’s all alone: no money—no friends and you got to live—live on five a week. You got a lot for a good time, haven’t you? God, I’ve been lonely sometimes; you’ve got to be pretty smart to steer straight—but I’ve done it, I’ve done it, I’ve done it. (_She breaks down and sits on chair R. of desk_)
PEALE. (_Kindly_) Now, see here, Countess—(_He pats her on back_)—don’t do that—don’t, don’t—(_She is sobbing a little_) Oh, quit it. (_A pause_) Keep it for some poor boob who’ll fall for it.
COUNTESS. (_Tearfully_) Oh, Ambrose, don’t talk like that——
PEALE. Say, honest, it’s foolish wasting it on me, kid.
COUNTESS. (_Completely changing to a radiant smile. Rises_) Well, it’s always worth trying once.
PEALE. (_Genially_) Sure it is. Why, you had me winging for a minute, but when you pulled that wheeze about “I’ve done it,” three times in succession, I knew it was phoney.
COUNTESS. But, honest, I was on the level about old Martin.
PEALE. Nix, nix, you came here to trim him for the $15,000 on the French rights.
COUNTESS. Gosh, have you seen him?
PEALE. Yes, he left me here to settle it. Where’s the contract? Come on—gimme—gimme——
COUNTESS. You mean you’ve been on all the time?
PEALE. Sure.
COUNTESS. And you let me sit there and emote all over the place.
PEALE. Gimme—gimme——
COUNTESS. Oh, I suppose I’ve got to. Oh, I’m sick of soap anyhow. 13 may be a lucky hunch for you boys, but it has been a hoodoo for me.
PEALE. And now, my little hearts of lettuce, this concludes your portion of the evening’s entertainment.
COUNTESS. But at that, don’t give me away, will you?
PEALE. I like you, you’ve got brains. Most chickens are just chickens.
COUNTESS. You are 18-karat, kid.
(_MARY, followed by RODNEY, enters hurriedly and sees PEALE._)
RODNEY. Oh, have you seen father? Is he here?
PEALE. I’m waiting for him now.
MARY. It’s most important.
PEALE. You remember the Countess? (_All bow embarrassed. Pause_)
COUNTESS. Well, I guess I’m not wanted, so I’ll trot. I’ll trot. (_Goes to door upper L._) So long, you 13 Soap suds. (_Exits_)
MARY. Where is father?
PEALE. Yes, what’s the excitement?
MARY. Just after we got to the office there was a letter from Macy’s.
RODNEY. Ordering 10,000 cakes of 13 Soap.
MARY. Now what do you think of that?
PEALE. Pinch me, I’m dreaming! (_Going down R._)
RODNEY. They say our advertising’s wonderful and has created such a demand they want to handle the soap in town. (_Goes around table down R._)
PEALE. (_Wonderingly_) Then all the things we said to your father are really true? (_Goes up center_)
MARY. Of course they are.
RODNEY. (_Protesting_) Now, see here, old man—
PEALE. Gosh! (_Coming down in front of table_)
RODNEY. You see, when I show father this letter from Macy’s he’s got to admit we’ve won out, and supply us with soap.
MARY. Isn’t it a shame that you can’t get soap from anybody but him?
RODNEY. He certainly has got the soap business tied up tight.
PEALE. Yes, if he busted, the whole world would go dirty.
MARY. Suppose he’s still stubborn and won’t help you? What’ll you do?
RODNEY. Oh, I’ll just have to plod along.
PEALE. Don’t plod—gallop, son—gallop—gallop.
RODNEY. You’re a great pal.
MARY. (_Crosses to PEALE_) Do you know, Mr. Peale, I’d like you awfully.
PEALE. Call me Ambrose.
MARY. (_Coyly goes to L._) Ambrose.
RODNEY. If we ever do come out of this, you’re going to be my partner, 50-50.
PEALE. Aw, shut up.
JOHNSON. (_Entering_) Mr. Charles Bronson; shall I show him in?
PEALE. You have my permission—(_Crosses to L. MARY crosses to table R._) This isn’t my house. (_BRONSON enters. JOHNSON exits_) This way, sir.
BRONSON. Oh, I beg pardon—I expected to find Mr. Martin.
RODNEY. I am Mr. Martin.
BRONSON. (_Eagerly_) Mr. Rodney Martin?
RODNEY. Yes.
BRONSON. Just the very man I wanted to see—on private business.
RODNEY. Oh, these are my partners. You can talk before them. This is Mr. Peale and Miss Grayson, may I present—Mr.——?
BRONSON. Mr. Charles Bronson, of Marshall Field.
MARY. (_Stunned_) Marshall Field?
PEALE. (_Falls in chair R. of desk_) Marshall Field?
BRONSON. Now, about your soap——?
PEALE. We’re very sorry—(_Rises and goes to BRONSON_)
MARY. We are; but a bargain is a bargain. (_Rises_)
BRONSON. Sorry? Why, your 13 Soap the last few days has had a most remarkable sale at our store.
(_MARY and PEALE, speechless, look at each other._)
RODNEY. (_Gasping_) You mean it is really selling?
BRONSON. Rather!
MARY. It’s really selling?
BRONSON. Why, you seem surprised——
MARY. Oh, no—not a bit.
RODNEY. Oh, not a bit.
PEALE. You mean people are actually coming into the store and buying it?
BRONSON. At a dollar a cake.
(_MARY and RODNEY take arm-chair from L. of table and place it in center of stage._)
RODNEY _and_ MARY. Have a chair?
PEALE. Give me your hat! (_Takes hat and fans himself_)
MARY. It was those page advertisements in Chicago that did it.
PEALE. Absolutely.
BRONSON. Extraordinary advertisements they were, too.
RODNEY. Oh, nothing to what we will do.
BRONSON. You’ll keep up your campaign?
RODNEY. Double it.
PEALE. Triple it.
BRONSON. Good, good. We foresee a tremendous sale for your goods. It’s an amazing soap.
RODNEY. It’s more than that——
PEALE. Absolutely.
BRONSON. Do you control the company yourself?
RODNEY. Oh, entirely.
BRONSON. Then I can deal with you.
RODNEY. With us—all of us.
BRONSON. We would be glad to contract now for 250,000 cakes. (_PEALE just flops into chair_) With deliveries to begin next week.
MARY. Our capacity just at present is limited.
RODNEY. Yes, we have so many orders on hand.
BRONSON. Naturally, but how much soap can you deliver now?
RODNEY. I don’t quite know. (_To MARY_) Do you?
MARY. Not quite. (_To PEALE_) Do you?
PEALE. Not quite.
BRONSON. Well, under the circumstances, what can we do?
MARY. That’s the question.
PEALE. What’s the answer? (_Rises. A pause_)
RODNEY. Here’s an idea: in view of our pressing orders, would you consider for the moment paying us merely for the use of our trade-mark without any soap at all?
BRONSON. Yes, I think we would.
PEALE. You would?
BRONSON. Your trade-mark is of course your biggest asset.
RODNEY. Yes, of course.
BRONSON. You would naturally give us your formula?
PEALE. Yes, if we still have that cook-book.
BRONSON. I beg pardon?
PEALE. Nothing, nothing. Have a cigar?
RODNEY. You can have the formula.
BRONSON. With a license from you to use the title, we could probably arrange to have the soap manufactured by Cyrus Martin of the soap trust.
RODNEY. Oh, you think you could—?
MARY. How much would you be willing to pay us for the trade-mark?
BRONSON. I should have to call up our Chicago office, but I think I can safely say we would be prepared to offer you at least two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
PEALE. (_Grasping_) Indeed!
BRONSON. Can I have an option at that figure?
(_Together_)
MARY. No!
PEALE. Yes!
RODNEY. Yes——
MARY. (_Loudly_) No!
RODNEY. No!
PEALE. No, but I hate to say it.
BRONSON. But if you control the company, why not settle matters now?
RODNEY. Why not, Mary?
PEALE. Yes, why not, Mary?
MARY. Hadn’t we better discuss the matter a little more fully first among ourselves?
BRONSON. Perhaps I could wait somewhere for a few minutes while you talk things over?
MARY. (_Opening door left_) Yes, do, please—in the library.
BRONSON. I am very glad to have met you.
RODNEY. Not half as glad——
PEALE. Not half so glad——
MARY. —not half as glad as we are to have met you.
PEALE. No, not half as much!
(_BRONSON exits L. lower door._)
RODNEY. Why not give him an option at a quarter of a million?
PEALE. Yes, why not? For the love of gee whiz, tell us that!
MARY. Because maybe we can get more money than that out of your father.
(_JOHNSON enters with letter, and crosses to table R._)
RODNEY. Mary, you are a wonder.
PEALE. Gosh, I wish you were going to marry me!
MARY. Johnson, oh, Johnson, you know I’ve always liked you——
JOHNSON. I beg pardon, Miss?
MARY. Will you do me a favor?
JOHNSON. Why, yes, Miss.
MARY. When Mr. Martin comes back, don’t tell him that Rodney and Mr. Peale are here, or Bronson, either; say I’m alone.
JOHNSON. Yes, Miss, but Mr. Martin just drove up in his car, he’ll be here directly——
MARY. Hurry up, then, tell him I’m here, waiting for him.
(_JOHNSON exits._)
RODNEY. But I don’t understand?
PEALE. Neither do I.
MARY. I do. I’ve got a great idea. You two boys go into that room, (_Indicating lower R._) and stay there. When I ring this buzzer twice, you call me on this ’phone—there’s a switch in there—and never mind what I say. Hurry now, both of you.
RODNEY. But what’s your plan?
MARY. I’m going to try to make a deal with your father.
PEALE. Well, I’ll slip you something that may help you when you see father. You tell him that I’ve got that contract. He’ll understand.
RODNEY. But I don’t know what any of this is about?
PEALE. Neither do I. Come on, she’s got more brains than both of us. (_They exit R._)
(_MARY settles herself in chair L. of desk, as MARTIN enters._)
MARTIN. Hello, Miss Grayson, this is a pleasant surprise. Where is Rodney?
MARY. That doesn’t matter. I’m here.
MARTIN. Where’s that—that Mr.——?
MARY. Mr. Peale—oh, Mr. Peale’s gone back to the office—but he told me to tell you that he’d got that contract——
MARTIN. Great, great! He’s a smart boy.
MARY. We are all smart—it’s a smart firm. We just got a letter from Macy’s for 10,000 cakes of 13 Soap, and this time you didn’t send a telegram——
MARTIN. Macy’s, eh? Well, well. Now, I’ll be frank. I want Rodney to come in with me—and you’ve got to help. You started this scheme. Now finish it up.
MARY. What’s changed you all of a sudden?
MARTIN. Well, Macy’s, for one thing. That shows sensational advertising does pay. Those boys are right. I’ve been too conservative, but anyhow I’ve got the whip hand: Rodney can’t get his soap for Macy’s except from me, and if I’m going to furnish three-cent soap that he sells wholesale for sixty cents, I’m going to be in on the profits. Any young man who can do that is just bound to have me for a partner whether he wants me or not. What do you say, Miss Grayson?
MARY. I’ll do all I can for Rodney.
MARTIN. You have authority to close the deal?
MARY. Absolutely.
MARTIN. Good. Now, what’s your proposition? (_Sits_)
MARY. Five hundred thousand dollars cash.
MARTIN. (_Rising_) What!
MARY. (_Calmly_) Sit down. That isn’t all: we get 51% of the stock, you put up a factory and give Rodney $50,000 a year, Peale, $30,000, and me $20,000.
MARTIN. As my son once observed, what a lovely autumn we’re having! (_He leans back and lights a cigar. As he does so, MARY pushes the buzzer twice. N. B. The audience must hear this buzzer. Almost instantly the ’phone rings. MARY quickly takes ’phone_)
MARY. Shall I answer it?
MARTIN. Go ahead—say I’m out.
MARY. (_In ’phone_) Oh, hello—(_To MARTIN_) It’s for me. Hello, Rodney—you’ve seen Bronson?
MARTIN. (_Sitting up_) Bronson?
MARY. (_In ’phone_) He did? Why, that’s a splendid offer. I hardly dared think Marshall Field would be so generous.
MARTIN. (_Promptly. Rises_) I’ll accept your proposition, Miss Grayson.
MARY. Wait. (_In ’phone_) Have you closed with Bronson yet?
MARTIN. What’d he say?
MARY. Oh, you haven’t?
MARTIN. Good.
MARY. No, I think you’d better come right up from the office and see me before you sign anything.
MARTIN. Here, let me talk to him. (_He reaches for ’phone_)
MARY. (_Quickly_) Oh, hello, hello. (_She jiggles ’phone_) Oh, dear, we’ve been cut off. Still, it doesn’t matter; it’s all settled now.
MARTIN. That’s splendid, Miss Grayson. I’m mighty grateful to you.
MARY. (_Nervously_) Shall we sign a memorandum now?
MARTIN. Sure—sure—just the rough details.
MARY. Sure, never put off till to-morrow what you can sign to-day.
MARTIN. (_He crosses to table R., sits and makes memoranda. Writing_) Fifty-one per cent—Rodney—fifty thousand. And what’s that young man’s name again—Spiel——?
MARY. Peale.
MARTIN. That certainly is one hell of a name—thirty thousand—Grayson twenty thousand. There. (_To MARY_) You sign here.
MARY. No, you sign first. (_MARTIN grunts and signs_) Now I’ll sign for Rodney. (_She does so gleefully_)
MARTIN. That’s great. (_Rises and goes L._)
MARY. You don’t know how great it is. (_MARY starts for door_) Now, I’ve a big surprise for you. Rodney’s not at the office—he’s in there.
MARTIN. What do you mean?
MARY. Only that I thought I’d handle you less sentimentally than he would. You see, once before I spoiled Rodney’s plan. This time I thought I ought to fix it up for him. (_Opening door_) Rodney—Ambrose.
MARTIN. Say, what is all this?
(_RODNEY and PEALE enter._)
RODNEY. Hello, father!
MARY. Rodney, it’s all settled. Your father has gone in with us. I’ve the contract.
RODNEY. Then we can get some soap!
MARTIN. All you want.
RODNEY. Then I don’t care what the arrangement is—now that we can make good—twenty per cent of the profits, and any old salary.
MARTIN. Twenty per cent! Why, she buncoed me out of fifty-one per cent and half a million down.
PEALE. (_Gasping_) Half a million!
RODNEY. (_To MARY_) You did? Mary, you are a peach!
PEALE. Absolutely.
MARY. (_To RODNEY_) And by the terms of my contract with you, you now owe me 10% of what Rodney has made: $50,000.
RODNEY. What contract?
PEALE. I don’t get you.
MARTIN. So that’s why you held me up, eh? Just to get your 10%. Say, young lady, I’ve got a lot of other money that you are overlooking.
RODNEY. Father, what do you mean?
MARTIN. (_To RODNEY_) I’ll tell you what I mean. She got engaged to you to make you go to work—she only left me to keep you on the job because I promised her 10% of what you earned. All the time that she’s been pretending she would marry you, she’s been making use of you. (_Goes to R. of table to sign check_)
RODNEY. Mary, you did this to me?
PEALE. I don’t believe it.
MARY. (_To MARTIN_) You owe me fifty thousand dollars—can I have the check, please?
MARTIN. Yes, if you’ll quit now—get out of here for good.
MARY. Certainly.
MARTIN. I’m disappointed to think you’d treat my boy like this.
MARY. What’s the difference? If I’d really loved him, you’d have objected to his marrying only a typewriter.
MARTIN. Objected! If you’d been on the level I’d have been proud to have you for my daughter. (_Handing check to RODNEY_)
RODNEY. (_Gleefully_) Hurrah, Mary, it’s all right!
PEALE. I don’t get you.
MARTIN. What is this—a joke? (_Rises_)
RODNEY. Certainly it is: you two put up a joke on me, and Mary and I thought we’d put up one for you. Mary told me about that fool contract weeks ago.
MARTIN. You mean you’re going to marry her?
RODNEY. Certainly not.
PEALE. Now see here——
MARTIN. Why aren’t you going to marry her?
RODNEY. Because we were married this morning, and we thought before we told you of our marriage we’d get her percentage for a wedding present. (_Hands check to PEALE. He gives it to MARY_)
MARY. And it’s bigger than we ever hoped for.
MARTIN. By George, you boys were right: I am an old fool. Anyhow, I’ll win that bet from old John Clark.
MARY. And now for Bronson. (_Goes to door L. lower_) Oh, Mr. Bronson?
MARTIN. You boys know Bronson?
MARY. Oh, yes, we had a long talk, with him, right in this room, about a proposition from Marshall Field——
(_Enter BRONSON._)
BRONSON. (_Crosses to MARTIN, SR._) Mr. Martin—Mr. Peale.
RODNEY. (_To BRONSON_) Now you talk to father.
MARY. Yes, you talk to him, father.
PEALE. Yes, father, you talk to him.
BRONSON. (_To RODNEY_) But I thought I was dealing with you?
MARTIN. No, sir, with me—now what’s your proposition?
BRONSON. A quarter of a million cash just for the trade-mark.
MARTIN. A quarter of a million? Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself to try to trim these poor boys like that. You know that 13 Soap is worth half a million in Chicago alone, and you try to take advantage of these kids’ ignorance. Why, it’s outrageous, but you can’t trim me! No, sir, we wouldn’t take a million. Do you know that the Uneeda trade-mark is valued at six million, the Gold Dust Twins at ten million and our trade-mark is better than theirs! We’re going to advertise all over the world. That’s what advertising means: the power of suggestion—the psychology of print. All you have to do is to say a thing often enough and hard enough, and ninety-seven per cent of the public’ll fall. Say, what kind of garters do you wear? Boston! Why? Because all your life every time you opened a magazine you saw a picture of a man’s leg with a certain kind of a garter on it—Boston!
_Curtain._
[Illustration: IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE
ACT I & III]
[Illustration: IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE
ACT II]
PROPERTY LIST
ACT I.
STAGE PROPERTIES
Typewriter desk Typewriter Office swivel chair Library table Couch Six large chairs (living room chairs) Footstool Writing set on large table (Pen, ink, etc.) Magazines and books Check book on large table Stenographer’s note book Walking stick Telephone on desk Telephone on table Clock (?) Carpet or rugs Push bell on Right flat near Door R. I E. Telephones may be connected. Three telephones in Third act may be connected to be ready for second Act and may remain through as two are used in Third Act too.
SIDE PROPERTIES
Walking stick—Martin Book of passes—Peale Pencil—Peale Parasol—Countess Suit case—Rodney Cook book—Rodney Two contracts—Peale Money for Rodney Letters for Johnson Salver for Johnson Calling cards—Johnson Martin’s foot tied up
ACT II.
STAGE PROPERTIES
Large flat-top desk Typewriter desk (same one as Act I) Typewriter paper, etc. Small table or desk for telephone stand Three telephones and three books (directories) Box of cigars in desk Plane in drawer of desk File cabinet Letter file on cabinet Letters in file cabinet Signs for walls Sandwich men signs (6) Rubber stamp and pad on big desk C. Ledger—or ledger sheets for MSS. case Buzzer connected up on Desk C. Buzzer connected up on Desk L. About six office chairs Two swivel office chairs Papers, check book, etc. Desk C. Papers like contracts for Rodney to sign Hat rack
SIDE PROPERTIES
MSS. case—Mary Pencil and pad—Peale Peale—telegram Letter—Mary Draft—Countess Cane—Ellery Hand bag—Countess Handkerchief—Countess
ACT III.
STAGE PROPERTIES
Same furniture as Act I—Arranged Same, except might have small table where desk was in Act I. Newspapers on desk C. Letters sealed on desk for Martin to open Circulars in these letters Advertisements on N. Y. papers: 13 soap Waste paper basket Check book on Table C. with ink, etc. Buzzer connected at typewriter desk
SIDE PROPERTIES
Letter seal on large table New York papers with ads of 13 soap Cigar—Peale Contracts—Countess List of Advertisers—Rodney Card and Tray—Johnson Bronson’s hat Cigar for Martin Matches—Martin