Feldman: A Play in Three Acts

By David Rade

Arrested for panhandling with $20k in his bag, Danny Feldman is confronted by a system determined to institutionalize him "in his own best interests." His freedom depends on the defense of a compassionate lawyer who volunteers to represent him against all odds. Danny’s struggle touches our hearts. FELDMAN raises questions about justice, mental health, individual rights, what it is to be free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cedars Spring Books
• Release date: Jun 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310199875

David Rade

David Rade is the founder and director of Swan Isle Press, an independent, not for profit, literary publisher in Chicago known for its books of world literature in translation. Long before his career in publishing the works of others, he wrote several plays. FELDMAN - A PLAY IN THREE ACTS is the first to be published (by Cedars Spring Books, not affiliated with Swan Isle Press).

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FELDMAN

A Play in Three Acts

DAVID RADE

FELDMAN - A Play in Three Acts

About the Author


&

Copyright

David Rade is the founder and director of Swan Isle Press, Inc., a not for profit publisher in Chicago known for its books of world literature in translation. Long before his career in publishing, he wrote several plays. FELDMAN - A PLAY IN THREE ACTS is the first to be published.

Cedars Spring Books, Inc., Glencoe, IL 60022

© 2014 David Rade

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, business establishments, event, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Image: Alley Study 18 with Beach by William Dolan, Chicago, IL www.dolanart.com

FELDMAN

Table of Contents

Act One, Scene 1

Act One, Scene 2

Act One, Scene 3

Act One, Scene 4

Act One, Scene 5

Act One, Scene 6

Act One, Scene 7

Act One, Scene 8

Act Two, Scene 1

Act Two, Scene 2

Act Two, Scene 3

Act Two, Scene 4

Act Three, Scene 1

Act Three, Scene 2

Act Three, Scene 3

Afterword

Glossary

FELDMAN

Characters

Danny Feldman, a stenographer in his early forties

Secretaries 1, 2 and 3

Doris & Nancy, secretaries

Helen, a friend of Danny's

Mr. Simmons, Danny's boss

Man Behind Cash Register

Lone Man

Waitress

Molly Himmel, a small wiry woman in her seventies, desk clerk at the St. Dennis Hotel

Employment Counselor

Ms. Grady, a woman waiting for temporary employment

Applicants 1, 2 and 3

Harold (Herschel) Feldman, Danny's brother

Paula Feldman, Harold's wife

Jerry Edelson, Danny’s brother-in-law

Ruth Edelson, Danny's younger sister

Andy, the Edelson’s son, age eleven

Ginny, Harold's eight-year-old daughter

Ellen, Andy's ten-year-old sister

Stoney, man of the street

Cal, man of the street

Heap of Rags

The Dark Form

Leader of Prayers

Mr. Lehman, an acquaintance

Morning Minyan, group of men

Young Man

Traveler

Fin

Agents 1 & 2

Marshall Lawrence, Danny's attorney

State's Attorney

Stanislaw Loeb, family attorney

Judge Nielsen

Dr. George Alvarez, a psychiatrist at Reading State Mental Hospital

Nurse

Inmates

Professor Spencer, inmate

Melissa, Lawrence’s eight-year old daughter

FELDMAN

Act One

Scene 1. Opens on a dark stage. Mid-1970s. The report of a typewriter can be heard and its rapid fire is rolling, steady and rhythmical. The carriage bell rings so often that its vibration is nearly continuous and carries over like a tonic line in a musical piece. A large high story window lightens with dirty pink disclosing a faint city skyline of gleaming tall buildings and high-rises; and in the grayer distance, barely made out, needle church spires, smokestacks, and rooftop water cisterns. In the foreground is the backlighted silhouette of the typist seated at his desk. Suddenly the stage completely darkens, the typing ceases, and only the thin ring of the carriage bell remains. Then all lights come up, a fluorescent white, showing a modern office with a relatively young man at his desk typing at phenomenal speed. The office is not yet open and he is alone. He is a true model of efficiency as he turns a page on the master copy while continuing to type with his free hand, not missing a beat. He is a flesh and blood machine - at least at one with his machine - as he types sitting painfully erect in an armless secretary's chair. Yet, despite the stiffness of his posture there is still something relaxed about him as he strikes the keys - not casual - displaying an ease and effortlessness, even in its intensity, that comes with confidence in one's skill. It is akin to a piano virtuoso making a difficult sonata seem easily played. Were his skill not so thoroughly admirable its rapidity would seem manic and comical, as he is after all merely working at a typewriter. His place is second to the last in a row of four gray metal desks, with another row alongside, a narrow aisle running between them. Besides the other equipped desks with their empty chairs, the office furniture consists of a bank of filing cabinets, a copying machine, a water cooler, a linear abstract reproduction on the wall of no artistic importance but for the sake of decoration, and some parlor plants, of precious little vitality, in a corner of the secretarial common room.

The young man has average good looks and is of that ambiguously youthful yet mature appearance that could make him anywhere from his early thirties to his early forties. He is gentle-eyed and studious. It is clear the young man takes some pains to put forth a good appearance; with hair neatly combed and parted, his face smooth shaven, dressed in a well-cut gray tweed jacket, a navy sweater vest, a blue shirt with the correct tie, and dark wool pants, cuffed and sharply creased. Near the base of the desk at his feet is a too glossy leatherette briefcase. One could assume he was an executive, albeit an extremely dexterous and eager one, who had come in early to do some of his own typing perhaps to do some catching up while the office is still quiet.

As he continues to type young women come drifting in from reception chattering, their voices tangled and unintelligible above the sound of the typewriter. Some take their seats, then straighten things on their desks in ritual preparation for work, while continuing to talk among themselves. Phones are picked up; the young women check themselves in their compacts and make certain feminine adjustments as though the young man were not there. A couple of the women go directly to the coffee room and reenter with cup in hand and approach their work stations. Though most glance briefly at the industrious typist as they take their seats, they pay him little or no mind, while some show barely masked irritation. Fragments of the secretarial pool’s conversation drift -

SECRETARY 1: What’s his hurry anyway? What’s he trying to prove? It's five to nine. We’re not late you know.

SECRETARY 2: That's just the way he is. He's always early. Don't bother ...

SECRETARY 1: Trying to make us look bad. Sucking up -

DORIS: ...he said he never would but he did. I told him he was free to do exactly as he wanted ... and, boy, did he.

NANCY: Doris! He didn't!

DORIS: He did. Oh yes, he did. You'd be surprised what a man will do when -

(Nancy looks nervously over to Danny typing and with facial gestures tries to stop Doris from saying another word.)

DORIS: Isn't that right, Danny?

NANCY: Doris!

DORIS: Oh Danny's OK. Aren't you, Danny?

(Danny nods a slight acknowledgement and continues typing at his incredible rate.)

DORIS: Why Danny's just like one of the girls, you know. Nobody would keep anything from Danny. Right, Danny?

NANCY: Oh leave him alone, Doris ... come on ...

(Danny hears his name again and nods but continues typing.)

DORIS: There’s nothing Danny likes better than a good chat. A juicy bit of gossip on a Monday morning. I tell him about my weekend - and he reads to me from the bible. We compare notes, you see.

(Doris leans against her desk that is directly in front of his and stares at Danny while he is typing. She shakes her head at Nancy.)

DORIS: What would you say? Eighty. Eighty-five maybe.

NANCY (looking at Danny): I’d say more like ninety ... or a hundred. Looks like it could be a hundred to me. Maybe more.

DORIS: Yeah. What's the difference? He's just showing off. Aren't cha, Danny?

(Danny nods uncomprehendingly as he finishes a page and directly feeds another sheet into the machine.)

DORIS: So Danny, did you have a nice weekend?

(Danny smiles rather politely, in an openly friendly way despite her teasing and sarcastic manner.)

DANNY: Yes, Doris, thank you ... and yours?

DORIS: Oh mine was terrific Danny. (aside to Nancy) See what a sweetie he is. (to Nancy for Danny's benefit) What did I tell you? You can talk to Danny about anything. I was just telling Nan here about all the gory details. It's of course very private ... but I think we could use a male perspective. See I was just saying to Nan that a man will do anything if ... given the right incentive.

NANCY: Doris, come on. Not in front of everybody. Somebody might -

DORIS: OK, OK. I’ll just whisper it.

(Doris gets very close to Danny’s ear and begins to whisper. Danny is clearly uncomfortable by her closeness and the content of the whispers. Then, she suddenly tongues Danny's ear and pulls away. Danny starts to cough violently, reddens and puts his