Match Please, Darling: A Bickersons Play

By Philip Rapp and Joel Rapp

Written in the 1960s by Philip Rapp (creator of the Bickersons and writer for Baby Snooks) and Joel Rapp (TV writer for McHale's Navy and many others), this is the only Official play starring The Bickersons (originally portrayed by Don Ameche and Frances Langford on radio). It contains Hilarious new adventures for these famous characters - and new characters. So watch out! You might laugh so hard you'll let the bourbon slip.

Presented in print here for the first time Ever!

Copyright 2015 The Philip Rapp Estate. All rights reserved. For performance questions, please contact BearManor Media.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BearManor Media
• Release date: Jun 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311696700

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Match Please, Darling: A Bickersons Play by Philip Rapp and Joel Rapp

© 2015 The Philip Rapp Estate. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopying or recording, except for the inclusion in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This version of the book may be slightly abridged from the print version.

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Published in the USA by:

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ISBN 978-1-59393-XXX-X

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Match Please, Darling

A Bickersons Play by Philip Rapp and Joel Rapp

CHARACTERS

HARVEY JACOBSON A divorce lawyer. Middle thirties, attractive, witty, good dresser — but like some people who are hard on shoes, Harvey is hard on money.

BLANCHE BICKERSON Wife of:

JOHN BICKERSON Everybody knows him.

TEDDY Doorman — elevator operator of the apartment house where the Bickersons and Harvey reside. About fifty.

BIRDIE TROWEL Attractive matron until she opens her mouth. Tactless, voluble.

HERB TROWEL Birdie’s fawning consort. Continental manners, sickening attention to Birdie’s tiniest whim, but not altogether unlikable.

ADELAIDE A Bunny from the Playboy Club

ACT ONE

The Bickersons’ apartment (Morning)

ACT TWO

Same locale (Eleven o’clock that night)

ACT THREE

Same locale (6:00 p.m. — five days later)

ACT ONE

The entire action of the play takes place in the New York apartment of JOHN and BLANCHE BICKERSON. It is on the fifth floor of a twenty-story building facing the East River. When the building was designed, the architects wisely decided to put all the bachelor apartments on one floor — the fifth. The only occupants of this floor who are married and living together are the Bickersons — which gives some clue to their financial status. The Bickersons have lived in Apt. 501 for eleven years. John himself lived there for two years before his marriage to Blanche, and when he carried his bride over the threshold, he assured her it was only a matter of time before they moved to larger quarters. The length of time was not specified and they will probably never leave 501 unless they are evicted — which is not a remote possibility. With the exception of HARVEY JACOBSON, a fairly unsuccessful divorce lawyer who batches next door in Apt. 502, they have never seen their neighbors. This is fine with John who has developed into something of a misanthrope through the years of being buffeted by the winds of ill-fortune and the growing hostility of a frustrated wife. Blanche is not a shrew. She loves her impecunious husband and is rather tolerant of his peccadilloes, although prone to magnify them in the heat of argument. But with the superb illogic of every married woman, she wants a better and more luxurious life. Things might have been different if HERB and BIRDIE TROWEL, Blanche’s dearest friends, hadn’t taken the penthouse in the same building five years ago. Blanche’s unconscious envy of their exalted position has manifested itself in constant attacks on her inadequate husband, and, comparisons being odious to John, he has come to regard them with an almost psychotic hatred. There is no doubt that the Trowels are John’s bêtes noire. And it is their propinquity that eliminates any future chance of the Bickerson’s domestic tranquility.

AT RISE: It is about eleven o’clock on a week-day morning. The living-bedroom is modestly furnished, but not in bad taste. The duo-beds, which are strategically placed for maximum viewing, make up into fairly attractive couches. One bed is unmade. The telephone, S.R., is ringing insistently.

The entrance door to the apartment opens. HARVEY JACOBSON enters and goes to the phone. He answers it.

HARVEY: Hello? No, this is Harvey Jacobson. Who’s that, Blanche?…How are you, sweetheart?

(looks around, then into phone)

No, I guess John’s gone to work…What?…Your party dress? Of course, I’ll check and see if it’s back from the cleaners.

(he heads for closet)

Oh, no trouble at all, Blanche. What are neighbors for?

(opens closet, takes out a dress, holds it up)

Is this it, Blanche?…Well, it’s the only one in the closet.

(looks at dress)

It’s beautiful, Blanche! You never looked lovelier.

(He hangs up. TEDDY enters, carrying two bags of groceries.)

TEDDY: Hello, Mr. Jacobson.

HARVEY: Hi, Teddy. What have you got there?

TEDDY: Your racing form — and groceries for the Bickersons.

HARVEY: Oh, thanks, Teddy.

(glances at grocery bags)

How are things at the market this morning?

TEDDY: (puts down groceries, goes to drapes)

Rails are up six points, Industrials up four points, Utilities holding firm, and pork belly futures are getting fatter by the minute.

HARVEY: Who needs a ticker? You’re a regular Standard & Poor.

TEDDY: (coming back to table)

You’re half right. Poor I am.

HARVEY: You mean you didn’t buy that stock that I tipped you on? That good thing?

TEDDY: I bought it, I bought it. Seventy-five shares.

HARVEY: Well, never let it be said that Harvey Jacobson doesn’t let his friends in on the ground floor. Where is it now?

TEDDY: In the ground. Please, Mr. Jacobson, don’t give me any more tips.

HARVEY: You’re right, Teddy. That stock market is a crazy gamble. But I got a sure thing in the first at Hialeah. We’ll get it all back.

TEDDY: Pass. I gotta get up to the Penthouse, Mr. Jacobson. Mr. and Mrs. Trowel are giving a formal dinner party and I’ve got to lay out the paper plates.