Characters CLAY, twenty-year-old Negro LULA, thirty-year-old white woman RIDERS OF CoAcH, white and black YOUNG NEGRO CONDUCTOR | i | | ) In the flying underbelly of the city. Steaming hot, and summer on top, outside. Underground. The subway heaped in modern (| myth. | Opening scene is a man sitting in a subway seat, holding a magazine | but looking vacantly just above its wilting pages. Occasionally he looks blankly toward the window on bis right. Din lights and darkness whistling by against the glass. (Or paste the lights, as admitted props, right on the subway windows. Have them move, even dim and flicker. But give the sense of speed. Also stations, whether the train is stopped or the glitter and ) activity of these stations merely flashes by the windows.)| ‘The man is sitting alone. The LEROIL JONES [4] That is, only his seat is visible, though the jitted as a complete subway car, But only ‘here might be, for a time, as the play of the actual train. And it can recur wr continue on a lower key once the rest of the car is ott his seat is shown. TI begins, a loud scream throughout the play, 0 dialogue starts. train slows after a time, pulling to a brief stop at one of the ‘rations, The man looks idly up, uneil be sees a woman's face ‘raring at him through the soindow; when it realizes that the ‘man bas noticed the face, it begins very premeditatedly so ‘gnile. The man smiles too, for a moment, without a trace of self-consciousness. Almost an instinctive though undesirable response, Then a kind of awkwardness or embarrassment sets in, and the man makes to look aveay, is further embarrassed, so be brings back bis eyes to where the face was, but by now the train is moving again, and the face would seem to be left be- hind by the way the man turns bis bead to look back through the other windows at the slowly fading platform. He smiles then; more comfortably confident, boping perkaps that bis memory of this brief encounter will be pleasant. And then be is idle again.Scene I Train roars. Lights flash outside the windows. LULA enters from the rear of the car in bright, skimpy summer clothes and sandals. She carries a net bag full of paper books, fruit, and other anonymous articles. She is wearing sunglasses, which she pushes up on ber forebead from time to time, LwLa is a tall, slender, beautiful woman with long red hair banging straight down her back, wearing only loud lipstick in some- body's good taste. She is eating an apple, very daintily. Coming down the car toward cay. She stops beside cuav’s seat and hangs languidly from the strap, still managing to eat the apple. It is apparent that she is going 10 sit in the seat next to cuav, and that she is only waiting for him to notice her before she sits. cay sits as before, looking just beyond his magazine, now and again pulling the magazine slowly back and forth in front of his face in a hopeless effort to fan bimself. Then he sees the woman hanging there beside bim and he looks up into ker face, smiling quizzically. uta. Hello. cuay. Uh, hi're you? aLEROI! JONES [6] uta. I'm going tosit down, . . . O.K.? ciay, Sure. LULA. : [Swings down onto the seat, pushing ber legs straight out as if she is very weary) Oooof! Too much weight. ray. Ha, doesn’t look like much to me. [Leaning back against the window, a little surprised and maybe stiff] LULA. It’sso anyway. [And she moves her toes in the sandals, then pulls ber right leg up on the left knee, better to inspect the bottoms of the sandals and the back of ber heel, She appears for a second not 10 notice that cuay is sitting next t0 her or that she bas spoken to bim just a second before. cLav looks at the magazine, then out the black window. As be does this, she turns very quickly toward hint] Weren't you staring at me through the window? cLay. (Wheeling around and very much stiffened] What? uta. Weren't you staring at me through the window? At the last stop? cuay. Staring at you? What do you mean? Luts. Don't you know what staring means? ctay. I saw you through the window . . . if that’s whatDutchman [7] it means. I don’t know if 1 was staring, Seems to me you were staring through the window at me. uta, Iwas, But only after I'd turned around and saw you staring through that window down in the vicinity of my ass and legs. cxay. Really? uta. Really. I guess you were just taking those idle pot- shots, Nothing else to do. Run your mind over people's flesh. cuay. Oh boy. Wow, now I admit I was looking in your direction. But the rest of that weight is yours. uvta, suppose. cay. Staring through train windows is weird business. Much weirder than staring very sedately at abstract asses, tuts. That's why I came looking through the window . . . so you'd have more than that to go on, I even smiled at you. cay, That's right. uta. Leven got into this train, going some other way than mine, Walked down the aisle . . . searching you out. cay. Really? That’s pretty funny.| LERO! JONES [8] uta. That's pretty funny. . . . God, you're dull, cxay, Wall, Pm sorry, lady, but I really wasn't prepared for party talk. uwia. No, you're not. What are you prepared for? [Wrapping the apple core in a Kleenex and dropping it om the floor) cLay. [Takes her conversation as pure sex talk. He turns to confront her squarely with this idea) I'm prepared for anything. How about you? LULA. [Laughing loudly and cutting it off abruptly] ‘What do you think you're doing? ciay. What? uuza, You think I want to pick you up, get you to take me somewhere and screw me, huh? ctay. Is that the way Ilook? tuxa. You look like you been trying to grow a beard, That's exactly what you look like. You look like you live in New Jersey with your parents and are trying to grow a beard. That's what. You look like you've been reading Chi- nese poetry and drinking lukewarm sugarless tea, ULaughs, uncrossing and recrossing ber legs] You look like death eating a soda cracker.Dutchman [9] cuay. [Cocking bis head from one side to the other, emb and trying to make some comeback, but also inrr aoe twhat the woman is saying . . even the sharp city casmener of her voice, which is still a kind of gentle sidewalk throb Really? Look like all that? ; uta. Not all of it. [She feints a seriousness to cover an actual somber tone} Tlie a lot. [Smiling] Ithelps me control the world. CLAY. [Relieved and laughing louder than the bumor] Yeah, I bet. uta, But it’s true, most of it, right? Jersey? Your bumpy neck? cay. How'd you know all that? Huh? Really, I mean about Jersey... . and even the beard. I met you before? You know Warren Enright? ruta, You tried to make it with your sister when you were ten. [cuay leanes back hard against the back of the seat, bis eyes opening now, still trying to look amused) But I succeeded a few weeks ago. [She starts to laugh again} cuay. What're you talking about? Warren tell you that? You're a friend of Georgia's?LEROI JONES [10] uta. I told you I lie. I don't know your sister. I don’t know Warren Enright. ctay. You mean you're just picking these things out of the air? uuta, Is Warren Enright a tall skinny black black boy with a phony English accent? ctay. I figured you knew him, tora. But I don’t. I just figured you would know some- body like that. [Laughs] ctay. Yeah, yeah, Luta. You're probably on your way to his house now. cuay. That's right. LULA, [Putting ber band on Clay's closest knee, drawing it from the knee up to the thigh's binge, then removing it, watching bis face very closely, and continuing t0 laugh, perhaps more gently than before] Dull, dull, dull. I bet you think ’'m exciting. cay. You're O.K. tuta, Am lexciting you now? cay. Right. That's not what's supposed to happen?Dutchman [11] tuta. How do I know? [Sbe returns her bend, without moving it, then takes it away and phnges it in ber bag to draw out an apple} You want this? cuay. Sure, | ‘LULA. | [She gets one out of the bag for herself] | Eating apples together is always the first step. Or walking up uninhabited Seventh Avenue in the twenties on week- ends, | [Bites and giggles, glancing at Clay and speaking in loose sing- | song] | Can get you involved . . . boy! Get us involved. Um-huh, | {Mock seriousness] | ‘Would you like to get involved with me, Mister Man? | apple) Sure, Why not? A beautiful woman like you. Huh, I'd be a fool not to. uta, And I bet you're sure you know what you're talking about. [Taking him a little roughly by the wrist, so he cannot eat the apple, then shaking the wrist] | I bet you're sure of almost everything anybody ever asked ] ciay. [Trying to be as flippant as Lula, whacking happily at the you about . . . right? | (Shakes bis wrist harder] | Right? | | Se arian aateigtra tn ocLEROI JONES [12] quay. Yeah, sight... Wow, you're pretty strong, you know? Whatta you, a lady wrestler or something? uta, What's wrong with lady wrestlers? And don’t an- wer because you never knew any. Huh. [Cynically] : “Thats for sure. They don't have any Indy wrestlers in that part of Jersey. That's for sure, ctav. Hey, you sill haven't told me how you know so much about me. iota, [told you I didn’t know anything about you . . . you're a well-known type. cay. Really? tuts. Or at least I know the type very well. And your skinny English friend too. ctay. Anonymously? LULA. [Settles back in seat, single-mindedly finishing ber apple and humming snatches of rbythin and blues song] What? ciay. Without knowing us specifically? Luts. Oh boy. (Looking quickly at Clay] What a face. You know, you could be a handsome man.Dutchman [13] ctay. Lean't argue with you, LULA. [Vague, off-center response] What? cuay. [Raising bis voice, thinking the train noise bas drowned part of bis sentence] Tcan’t argue with you. uta. My hair is turning gray. A gray hair for each year and type I've come through. ctay. Why do you want to sound so old? wut. Butit’s always gentle when it starts [Attention drifting] Hogged against tenements, day or night. ciay. What? LULA, [Refocusing] Hey, why don’t you take me to that party you're going to? cray. You must be a friend of Warren’s to know about the party. LULA. Wouldn't you like to take me to the party? [Imitates clinging vine] Oh, come on, ask me to your party.LEROI JONES [14] quay, Of course I'l ask you t0 come with me to the party, ‘And T'll bet you're a friend of Warren’s. ura, Why not bea friend of Warren's? Why nor? [Taking bis arm] Have you asked me yet? quay, How can Task you when I don’t know your name? ota, Are you talking tomy name? cray. What isit, a secret? uta. I'm Lena the Hyena. ciay. The famous woman poet? uta. Poetess! The same! cuay. Well, you know so much about me . . . what's my name? uvta. Morris the Hyena. cuay. The famous woman poet? uta. The same. [Laughing and going into her bag] You want another apple? cuay. Can't make it, lady, T onl ete ly. I only have to keep one doctor biDutchman [15] uta, I bet your name is. . . something like... uh, Gerald or Walter. Huh? ctay. God, no. uta. Lloyd, Norman? One of those hopeless colored names creeping out of New Jersey. Leonard? Gag. . . . cay. Like Warren? tuta. Definitely, Just exactly like Warren. Or Everett. cuay. Gag... . LuLa. Well, for sure, it’s not Willie. cay. It’s Clay. uta. Clay? Really? Clay what? cxay. Take your pick. Jackson, Johnson, or Williams. LULA. Oh, really? Good for you. But it’s got to be Wil- liams, You're too pretentious to be a Jackson or Johnson. tay. Thass right. uta. But Clay’s O.K. ciay. So’s Lena. uta. It’s Lula.= LEROI JONES taj cuay, Oh? uta. Lula the Hyena. cuay. Very good. LULA. [Starts laughing again] Now you say to me, “Lula, Lula, why don’t you go to this party with me tonight?” It’s your turn, and let those be your lines. cay. Lula, why don’t you go to this party with me to- night, Huh? Luts, Say my name twice before you ask, and no huh’s, ctay. Lula, Lula, why don’t you go to this party with me tonight? uta. Pd like to go, Clay, but how can you ask me to go when you barely know me? tay. Thatis strange, isn’t it? Lua. What kind of reaction is that? You're supposed to say, “Aw, come on, we'll get to know each other better at the party.” cay. That's pretty corny. Lota. What are you into anyway?Dutchman [17] [Looking at him half sullenly but still amused) What thing are you playing at, Mister? Mister Clay Wile liams? [Grabs his thigh, up near the crotch] What are you thinking about? ciay, Watch it now, you're gonna excite me for real. LULA. [Taking her band away and throwing her apple core through the window] Ibet. [She slumps in the seat and is heavily silent] ctay. I thought you knew everything about me? What happened? [tux looks at him, then looks slowly away, then over where the other aisle would be. Noise of the train. She reaches in ber ag and pulls out one of the paper books. Ske puts it on ber leg and thumbs the pages listessly. c.ax cocks his bead to see the title of the book. Noise of the train. via flips pages and ber eyes drift. Both remain silent] Are you going to the party with me, Lula? ‘LULA. [Bored and not even looking] [don’t even know you. cuay. Yousaid you know my type. LULA. [Strangely irritated] Don’t get smart with me, Buster. I know you like the palm of my hand.—" LEROIL JONES [18] cxay. The one you eat the apples with? T open doors late Saturday evening Up at the top of the stairs. Five and lying Americans, And uta, Yeh, And the one with, That's my door, Up flights. Above a lot of Taian scrape carrots with. Also . « « [Looks at him] : : the same hand I unbutton my dress with, or let my skirt fall down. Same hand. Lover. cuay. Are you angry about anything? Did I say something wrong? uta. Everything you say is wrong. [Mock smile] “That's what makes you so attractive, Hla. In that funnybook jacket with all the buttons. (More animate, taking hold of his jacket] ‘Wohat've you got that jacket and tie on in all this heat for? ‘And why’te you wearing a jacket and tie like that? Did your people ever burn witches or start revolutions over the price of tea? Boy, those narrow-shoulder clothes come from a tradition you ought to feel oppressed by. A three-button suit, What right do you have to be wearing a three-button suit and striped tie? Your grandfather was a slave, he didn’t goto Harvard. cuay. My grandfather was a night watchman. tuts, And you went to a colored college where everybody thought they were Averell Harriman. cuay. All except me.Dutchman [19] uta. And who did you think you were? Who do you think you are now? cuay. [Laughs as if to make light of the whole trend of the conver- sation] ‘Well, in college I thought I was Baudelaire. But I've slowed down since. ura. I bet you never once thought you were a black nigger. [Mock serious, then she howls with laughter. cLay is stunned but after initial reaction, be quickly tries to appreciate the bumor. Lois almost shrieks) A black Baudelaire. cua. That's right. uta. Boy, are you corny. I take back what I said before. Everything you say is not wrong, It's perfect. You should be on television. ctay. You act like you're on television already. uta. That's because I’m an actress. cay. Ithought so. Lota, Well, you're wrong. I'm no actress. I told you I al- ways lie. 'm nothing, honey, and don’t you ever forget it. [Lighter] Although my mother was a Communist. The only person in my family ever to amount to anything.LERO! JONES [20] quay. My mother was a Republican. uta. And your father voted for the man rather than the party. cuay. Right! uta. Yea for him. Yea, yea for him. cay. Yea! uta. And yea for America where he is free to vote for the mediocrity of his choice! Yea! ciay. Yea! xota. And yea for both your parents who even though they differ about so crucial a matter as the body politic still forged a union of love and sacrifice that was destined to flower at the birth of the noble Clay . . . what's your middle name? cuay. Clay. tut. A union of love and sacrifice that was destined to flower at the birth of the noble Clay Clay Williams, Yea! And most of all yea yea for you, Clay Clay. The Black Baudelaire! Yes! [And with knifelike cynicism] My Christ. My Christ. ctay. Thank you, ma’am.Dutchm ] wuts. May the people accept you as a ghost of the future, And fove you, that you might not kill them when you ean ciay. What? uta. You're a murderer, Clay, and you know it. [Her voice darkening with significance] You know goddamn well what I mean. cuay. Ido? uta. So we'll pretend the air is light and full of perfume. ciay. [Sniffing at ber blouse Tis. uta. And we'll pretend the people cannot see you. That is, the citizens, And that you are free of your own history. And I am free of my history. We'll pretend that we are both anonymous beauties smashing along through the city’s entrails. [She yells as loud as she can] GROOVE! BlackScene II Scene is the same as before, though now there are other seats visible in the car. And throughout the scene other people get on the subway. There are maybe one or two seated in the car as the scene opens, though neither cLay nor Lua notices them, cuay's tie is open. LuLa is bugging his arm, cay, The party! uota. I know it'll be something good. You can come in with me, looking casual and significant. Tl be strange, haughty, and silent, and walk with long slow strides. cuay. Right. tuts, When you get drunk, pat me once, very lovingly on the flanks, and I'll Jook at you cryptically, licking my lips. cay. Itsounds like something we can do. tuta. You'll go around talking to young men about your mind, and to old men about your plans. If you meet a veryDutchman [23] close friend who is also with someone like me, we can stand together, sipping our drinks and exchanging codes of lus ‘The atmosphere will be slithering in love and half-love and ery open moral decision. ve ani cia. Great. Great. ruta. And everyone will pretend they don't know your name,and then... [She pauses heavily) Jater, when they have to, they'll claim a friendship that de- nies your sterling character. ‘CLAY. [Kissing her neck and fingers] And then what? uta, Then? Well, then well go down the street, late night, eating apples and winding very deliberately toward my house. cuay, Deliberately? ura. I mean, we'll look in all the shopwindows, and make fan of the queers. Maybe we'll meet a Jewish Buddhist and atten his conceits over some very pretentious coffee. cxay. In honor of whose God? tuta. Mine. cuay. Whois... ? —LEROI JONES [24] Luts, Me . . . and yo ciay. A corporate Godhead. ura, Exactly. Exactly. [Notices one of the other people entering] cay. Go on with the chronicle. Then what happens to us? LULA. [A mild depression, but she still makes ber description tritam. phane and increasingly direct] To my house, of course. cay, Of course. uta, And up the narrow steps of the tenement. cuay. You live in a tenement? uta. Wouldn't live anywhere else, Reminds me specifi- cally of my novel form of insanity. ciay. Up the tenement stairs, uta. And with my apple-eating hand I push open the door and lead you, my tender big-eyed prey, into my . . . God, what can [call it. . . into my hovel. cuay, Then what happens? uta. After the dancing and games, after the long drinks and long walks, the real fun begins.Dutebmian [25] ctay. Ah, the real fun, * [Embarrassed, in spite of himself] Whichis .. . ? LuLa, [Laughs at him] Real fun in the dark house. Hah! Real fun in the dark house, high up above the street and the ignorant cowboys. I lead you in, holding your wet hand gently in my hand . . . cuay. Which is not wet? uta, Which is dry as ashes. ciay. And cold? tuta. Don’t think you'll get out of your responsibility that way. I's not cold at all. You Fascist! Into my dark living room, Where we'll sitand talk endlessly, endlessly. ctay. About what? uta. About what? About your manhood, what do you think? What do you think we've been talking about all this time? ciay. Well, I didn’t know it was that, That’s for sure. Every other thing in the world but that. [Notices another person entering, looks quickly, almost in- voluntarily up and down the car, seeing the other people in the car] Hey, I didn’t even notice when those people got on.LEROI JONES [26] uta. Yeah, I know, Lay. Man, this subway is slow. uta. Yeah, know. ctay, Well, go on. We were talking about my manhood. uta, Westill are. All the time. ctay. We were in your living room. uta, My dark living room. Talking endlessly. cuay. About my manhood. uta. F'll make you a map of it, Just as soon as we get to my house. cay, Well, that's great. LULA. One of the things we do while we talk. And screw. cay. [Trying to make his smile broader and less shaky] We finally got there. Lota, And you'll call my rooms black as a grave. You'll say, “This place is like Julier’s tomb.” cuay, [Laughs] Imight.