ELLEN
Is it charms you’re selling? Bibles? We don’t need charms and we have a Bible.
WHITMAN
I saw them lying on the battlefields and in the hospitals in Washington. Sometimes I would see them holding up little bits of mirrors and staring at the strangers looking out at them. In their hearts they’re asking what America means. They’re groping their wounds and their trauma and searching for meaning to their lives before those lives drip out onto the rich Southern soil or in some obscure cow pasture.
CLAIRE
And who do you pretend to be?
WHITMAN
Pretend? Har! A good question. I am Walt Whitman, newspaper reporter, sometimes nurse, sometimes great poet, sometimes an even greater drunk. And this is my man Farley, who keeps my room clean up at the Hotel Albert when I am out of town. Farley is eleven years old and passes as a fair philosopher. Am I right, Farley?
FARLEY
Yes, sir.
ELLEN
Well, if there’s a thought in that crowd out there it’s running between their legs, not dancing in their heads. That’s for sure. They’re chasing black people in the streets. They hanged a man on Baxter Street.
WHITMAN
Could I trouble you for a cup of tea?
ELLEN
(pours the tea)
Against my better judgment.
WHITMAN drinks from the cup and nods appreciatively.
WHITMAN
And if their lives have no meaning, they pray that maybe the color of their skins hold some vestige of a higher truth.
FARLEY
Did you see the way they was looking at me? And I don’t even know them, I don’t.
CLAIRE
They’re the ones who should have been hanged.
ELLEN
My husband thinks they’ll get tired of this violence soon enough.
WHITMAN
It’ll be done when America at last defines itself, by what she sees in her collective mirrors and not by what she sees in her imagined world of snow white angels floating among the clouds of our lofty ideals. Until then, we’ll all be in the streets looking for where we belong.
ELLEN
And if that makes a bit of sense, I’m a three-eyed bullfrog!
There’s a pounding on the door and several shouts of rioters looking for drinks. The pounding continues for a long moment as the group inside is still, then stops as the rioters move on.
ELLEN
(cont’d)
What do you know about violence? I can’t see you as a soldier.
FARLEY
He was in Washington.
WHITMAN
And on the battlefields of Virginia. Treating the wounded of this terrible war. Holding the hands of better men than me and stronger boys as they waited to die. Keeping my sanity by not trying to make sense of it.
CLAIRE
None of this is right. Why should anybody hate me because I’m black?
FARLEY
You don’t look black to me.
ELLEN
I think the rowdies have passed. Perhaps you should go now.
WHITMAN
Farley, the lady wants us to leave because you are black and therefore a danger and I am a man with too many words for so small an establishment. So we will go, and try to keep our hind parts—yours black and mine not capable of a decent defense—off the winding streets of my beloved city.
FARLEY
(to CLAIRE)
How you know you black? You don’t look black to me.
CLAIRE
I look black to me, Mr. Farley. I know what I am and who I am and that’s all that matters.
WHITMAN
And there you have the whole fish, Farley. Head, gills, and tail. With that much wisdom, we can upstream a-breeding go.
CLAIRE
Fish? Is that supposed to make sense? I have no idea what that means, and I don’t want to know.
FARLEY
(as they head toward the door)
I don’t think he knows, either, ma’am.
WHITMAN laughs as he and FARLEY exit.
ELLEN
(locking the front door of the Peacock)
Maybe your father is right. Maybe they’ll just grow tired of this running about and go home.
(hesitates)
I’m thinking maybe we should take turns looking out of the upstairs window in case anyone comes looking for trouble. We’d see them from a distance and be ready for them. What do you think? Though if only one or two came, we’d beat whatever brains they had in their heads till they weren’t more than a pot of mushy peas, wouldn’t we?
(comes closer to her daughter)
Is that a bit of a smile on your lips? Is it worth sharing?
CLAIRE
(in her best Irish brogue)
Ay, and it’s happy I am to have a mum such as yourself.
The two embrace briefly, and ELLEN pats CLAIRE on the shoulder.
ELLEN
Ay, and it’s happy I am to have a daughter sweet as you. I’ll take a peek through the curtains.
ELLEN exits.
CLAIRE goes to the door and slides her fingers slowly along the black cast-iron bolt. She pushes the bolt open, then quickly closes it. We see a CLOSE-UP of her fingers nervously drumming against the heavy door.
CLAIRE
(voice-over)
Maybe it’s me who should be out there trying to find myself. Trying to discover who I am instead of hiding behind this door wondering who will find me and wondering what they will call me. I am afraid—not that they will hurt me but that they will discover who I am before I do. It would be better if they just hurt me, if they knocked me down in the street. Then I would just be me again, hurting and annoyed and even angry. But here, standing against this door, wondering what is happening on the other side…I am nobody.
We see her fingers again slide the lock open and shut.
When they tell me that they are chasing black people in the street, I don’t know what to feel. I am angry that anyone is being chased, but do I know what it means to be black? When that girl looked at me, it was with such contempt. A week ago she couldn’t have hurt me. Now just the thought of her coming back fills me with terror. It’s as if she has found who she is and can look right through me and know that I am lost.
Again she fingers the lock. The camera moves to the stairway.
ELLEN
(calling from upstairs)
Claire? Did you have anything for breakfast? Claire? Claire!
EXT. MADISON SQUARE PARK—SAME DAY
We see rows of tents, a few small fires, and groups of SOLDIERS in small knots.
CUT TO:
Three privates, KELLY (25), PARKER (24), and LANCASTER (17). KELLY and PARKER are both unshaven and have the look of men who have been in combat too long. LANCASTER looks (and is) too young to be in the army. His uniform hangs loosely on him. He stands while the other two soldiers sit. We see KELLY searching through his equipment bag, then walk away.
PARKER
He’s got his mad on, but this has got to be better than facing Johnny Reb.
He is poking a small fire they have started, in which he has placed his canteen cup to make hot water for tea.
LANCASTER
I don’t even know what this is about.
PARKER
About the draft. Something about the draft. These people don’t want to enjoy the pleasures of marching in the sun.
LANCASTER
I heard the rebs had to kill a bunch of people to get them to report for duty.
PARKER
Captain said some of these people have guns. Gotta be careful. A fool can kill you just as quick as a sniper. Gotta be careful.
LANCASTER
You had anything to eat? I’m starving.
PARKER
There’s some eggs in that crate. They say don’t suck them raw, but that’s what I’ve been doing. You can boil them over the fire if you got a mind to. Don’t boil t
hem too long or they’re get hard. I can’t stand no hard eggs.
LANCASTER
Back home I used to suck them raw all the time. Go down to the henhouse and move an old fat biddy off her nest. I never figured out if they really cared or not. My ma didn’t like it none, wanted me to sit around the table with my brother and daddy for breakfast. But my daddy never had nothing to say that wasn’t grinding against the ear. Complainingest man I’ve ever known.
PARKER
That why you joined up? I thought you just liked the pretty brass buttons.
LANCASTER
Look at this one watching us. You figure she’s a spy or something?
The camera moves, and we see CLAIRE standing next to a tree, about twenty feet from the soldiers.
PARKER
(calling to CLAIRE)
Come on over, darling. We won’t bite you.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of CLAIRE, who looks apprehensive, then forces a smile. Return to MAIN SHOT.
PARKER
Lank here thinks you’re a spy.
We see CLAIRE take a step back, then walk slowly toward the soldiers.
PARKER
Morning!
CLAIRE
Morning.
PARKER
We’re just here debating whether or not Lank is going to die from eating raw eggs. He says he won’t, but I say he might. What do you say?
CLAIRE looks from man to man but doesn’t speak.
LANCASTER
I done ate raw eggs before, and there’s nothing to it.
CLAIRE
If you have a pan, I can cook them for you.
LANCASTER
We got a pan.
PARKER
Lank, you liable to come out this war a man yet.
(taking loose tobacco and cigarette paper out of his pocket)
Got a woman cooking his breakfast! Miss, don’t let his head get too close to your dress or it’ll get all wet. He ain’t got water on the brain; he’s just a little wet behind the ears!
LANCASTER
Parker, you’re a crazy man.
PARKER
(to himself as he heads off)
Ain’t but two months out of his diapers and he’s got a woman cooking his breakfast!
CLAIRE and LANCASTER stand awkwardly, a few feet apart. Then LANCASTER realizes what she is waiting for and rummages through his bag. He produces a small skillet and lays out the eggs, a piece of fatback, and a heel of bread.
CLAIRE looks at the skillet closely, then takes LANCASTER’s canteen, pours water from it into the pan, and wipes it out with the kerchief she takes from her waist. She puts the skillet on the fire. After a few seconds, the remaining water sizzles off.
CLAIRE
You have a knife?
LANCASTER
(a bit cautiously)
Yeah.
He gives her the knife and watches as she cuts off a piece of the fatback and puts it in the pan.
LANCASTER
You got a name?
CLAIRE
(more relaxed)
No, my parents were too poor to give me one.
LANCASTER
Get out of here!
CLAIRE
Claire.
LANCASTER
I’m Josh. Josh Lancaster. They call me Lank, but you can call me Josh. Or Lank. It don’t matter.
We are watching CLAIRE cook the eggs and fatback.
CLAIRE
How old are you?
LANCASTER
Almost eighteen.
CLAIRE looks up at him quickly, realizing that he is only a couple of years older than she is.
CLAIRE
How long have you been in the army?
LANCASTER
(trying to sound older)
Long enough.
CLAIRE
Were you at Gettysburg? I read about the battle there.
LANCASTER
You read? One day, when this war is all over, I’m going back to school. Learn reading and writing. Maybe geography. Been a lot of places, so I got a leg up on geography. I wasn’t at Gettysburg. Met a fellow who was there who read us a paper on it. He said it wasn’t nothing like it happened, though.
CLAIRE
You have a plate?
LANCASTER
No, miss.
He takes the skillet from CLAIRE and attacks the breakfast.
CLAIRE
(stands as LANCASTER kneels)
How was it different?
LANCASTER
(between mouthfuls)
He said it was mostly just sitting around and waiting for something to happen. Then there was a bunch of rebs charging through a cornfield and yelling. That’s what them rebs do best. The rebs charged and got beat back pretty good.
CLAIRE
Have you ever killed anybody?
LANCASTER
Don’t know really. You shoot and you hope for the best.
CLAIRE
Scared?
LANCASTER
Me? No, miss. Maybe…maybe a little. Yes, miss, I was scared some. It wasn’t the dying that scared me. It was the wounded laying out in the field calling out for their mamas. That’s a bad sound. That’s a real bad sound. Goes through you like a cold wind. You can’t relax after you hear a man calling out, knowing he’s…you know…not going to make it.
CLAIRE
We had a man come into our hotel. My family has a hotel. He said he was a nurse. He said he had watched a lot of men die.
LANCASTER
I guess if your number is up…. How good you read and write?
CLAIRE
Real good. Very good.
LANCASTER
(looks around)
I got a pencil and paper. You think you can write a letter for me?
CLAIRE
Yeah.
The camera pulls back, and we see LANCASTER give CLAIRE a pencil and paper. He has put the skillet down and stands leaning on his rifle as he dictates the letter to CLAIRE.
We hear LANCASTER’s voice, young and a bit shaky, as he dictates the letter.
LANCASTER
(voice-over)
Dear Mother,
I am doing well and hope this letter finds you and the family safe and sound. Please tell Uncle Phil that I saw a hog in Virginia that was nearly a tall as his mule and was just as mean. They don’t have much for crops in Virginia except tobacco and some measly wheat, which I don’t think they could sell on the fourth of December, let alone the Fourth of July!
I am sorry to say that Michael Hansen, who asked about our cousin Susan, was wounded in the left shoulder. It didn’t look like much and he was in good spirits but died anyway. I suspect his dying surprised him as much as it surprised me.
I certainly miss Wisconsin and being home and with you, Pa, Thomas, and Grandma Ellie. I love you all very much and want you to know that as a fact. This letter is being written by a young woman from New York City, and I will carry it with me for the rest of the war and hope to bring it home to you.
Your loving son,
Joshua
CLAIRE
That’s a nice letter.
LANCASTER
Thank you, miss.
CLAIRE
(looking for something to say)
You…like being in the army?
LANCASTER
I did before I got into fighting. Then there ain’t nothing to like except feeling yourself alive when it’s done.
We see SOLDIERS forming up in the background.
CLAIRE
Why did you join?
LANCASTER
A man has to stand up for what he believes in. I believe in God and my country and in all people being free.
CLAIRE
Even black people?
LANCASTER
Don’t make me no never mind what color they are. I know I wouldn’t want to be no slave.
CLAIRE
(turns to face LANCASTER)
I’m black.
LANCASTER folds the letter and carefully puts it into his vest. He looks up at CLAIRE, who is waiting for a reaction.
LANCASTER
Thank you for the eggs, miss. And for the letter.
PARKER returns.
PARKER
Let’s go, Lank. They’re forming up.
We see LANCASTER and PARKER forming up with their company.
LONG SHOT: The SOLDIERS begin to march, not too smartly, out of Madison Square Park, headed downtown. We see LANCASTER turn and look toward where CLAIRE still stands. She waves. He touches his chest where the letter is tucked.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of CLAIRE watching the SOLDIERS. Then we see her walk out of the park. She is lost in her thoughts as she, too, heads downtown. Her step is light, almost jaunty. She stops as she passes a store window to look at herself and straighten her blouse before continuing.
EXT. A STREET NEAR THE PEACOCK INN—SAME DAY
A group of very YOUNG WHITE BOYS is taunting a crippled BLACK MAN on one crutch as two STREET TOUGHS watch. The BLACK MAN turns, stumbling, as the TEENAGERS throw rocks at him.
CUT TO: