Storefront Church Read online

  BOOKS BY JOHN PATRICK SHANLEY AVAILABLE FROM TCG

  Defiance

  Dirty Story and Other Plays

  Doubt

  Outside Mullingar

  Storefront Church

  Storefront Church is copyright © 2014 by John Patrick Shanley

  Storefront Church is published by Theatre Communications Group, Inc.,

  520 Eighth Avenue, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10018-4156

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio or television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that this material, being fully protected under the Copyright Laws of the United States of America and all other countries of the Berne and Universal Copyright Conventions, is subject to a royalty. All rights, including but not limited to, professional, amateur, recording, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio and television broadcasting, and the rights of translation into foreign languages are expressly reserved. Particular emphasis is placed on the question of readings and all uses of this book by educational institutions, permission for which must be secured from the author’s representative: George Lane, Creative Artists Agency, 405 Lexington Avenue, 19th Floor, New York, NY 10174, (212) 277-9000.

  The publication of Storefront Church by John Patrick Shanley, through TCG’s Book Program, is made possible in part by the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Andrew Cuomo and the New York State Legislature.

  TCG books are exclusively distributed to the book trade by Consortium Book Sales and Distribution.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Shanley, John Patrick.

  Storefront church / John Patrick Shanley.—First edition.

  pages cm

  ISBN 978-1-55936-759-2 (ebook)

  1. Bronx (New York, N.Y.)—Economic conditions—Drama. 2. Clergy—Drama. 3. Spiritual life—Drama. I. Title.

  PS3569.H3337S762014

  812’.54—dc232014029523

  Book design and composition by Lisa Govan

  Cover design by John LaMacchia

  Cover art by Dave McMacken

  First Edition, September 2014

  CONTENTS

  Production History

  Characters

  ACT ONE

  Scene 1

  Scene 2

  Scene 3

  Scene 4

  ACT TWO

  Scene 1

  Scene 2

  Scene 3

  About the Author

  To Philip Seymour Hoffman, that beautiful and private man, who died too soon

  PRODUCTION HISTORY

  Storefront Church received its world premiere at Atlantic Theater Company (Neil Pepe, Artistic Director; Jeffory Lawson, Managing Director) in New York City on June 11, 2012. It was directed by John Patrick Shanley; the set design was by Takeshi Kata, the costume design was by Alejo Vietti, the lighting design was by Matthew Richards, the sound design was by Bart Fasbender; the production stage manager was Alison DeSantis. The cast was:

  ETHAN GOLDKLANG

  Bob Dishy

  REED VAN DRUYTEN

  Zach Grenier

  JESSIE CORTEZ

  Tonya Pinkins

  DONALDO CALDERON

  Giancarlo Esposito

  CHESTER KIMMICH

  Ron Cephas Jones

  TOM RAIDENBERG

  Jordan Lage

  Storefront Church opened at San Francisco Playhouse (Bill English, Artistic Director; Susi Damilano, Producing Director) on November 30, 2013. It was directed by Joy Carlin; the set design was by Bill English, the costume design was by Abra Berman, the lighting design was by David K.H. Elliott, the sound design was by Teddy Hulsker; the production stage manager was Tatjana Genser. The cast was:

  ETHAN GOLDKLANG

  Ray Reinhardt

  REED VAN DRUYTEN

  Rod Gnapp

  JESSIE CORTEZ

  Gloria Weinstock

  DONALDO CALDERON

  Gabriel Marin

  CHESTER KIMMICH

  Carl Lumbly

  TOM RAIDENBERG

  Derek Fischer

  CHARACTERS

  ETHAN GOLDKLANG, sixties

  REED VAN DRUYTEN, mid-forties

  JESSIE CORTEZ, fifty-three

  DONALDO CALDERON, forties

  CHESTER KIMMICH, middle-aged

  TOM RAIDENBERG, middle-aged

  TIME

  2009.

  PLACE

  New York City.

  If your church is sacred, our sister is, too. If our sister is not sacred, neither is your church.

  —VICTOR HUGO,

  The Hunchback of Notre-Dame

  ACT ONE

  Scene 1

  December 2009.

  A loan officer’s cubicle. Ethan Goldklang, a threadbare Jewish accountant in his sixties, sits with a loan officer named Reed Van Druyten. Reed is in his mid-forties or so. His face is stiff on one side. He’s deaf in one ear, partially blind in one eye. In addition, he has a tic in his speech. He makes involuntary sounds occasionally.

  On the desk, in addition to financial materials, is a thick, well-thumbed paperback and a cardboard cake box.

  ETHAN: Here you go.

  REED: Aa. What’s this?

  ETHAN: My wife made it. It’s a chocolate cake.

  REED: I’m an officer of the bank. We can’t accept gifts.

  ETHAN: Relax, kemosabe. You’ll live longer. Has anybody ever told you that you’re the spitting image of Alexander Hamilton?

  REED: No.

  ETHAN: When I walked in, I thought you were a ten-dollar bill holding a pencil.

  REED: Please take that off my desk.

  ETHAN: Let me ask you a question. What do you think makes somebody great?

  REED: I have no idea.

  ETHAN: Have you ever read The Hunchback of Notre-Dame?

  REED: No. I’m not allowed to accept gifts.

  ETHAN: What’s the big deal? It’s a cake. It’s perishable. Do you read?

  REED: Yes.

  ETHAN: You oughta read The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. I’d lend it to you but I’m not done.

  REED: That’s all right.

  ETHAN: Tells the story of this one nobody and you get everything. It’s amazing how a story can make you feel the time. I mean, we’re living in a time, right? This country was built by giants. They died and midgets moved in. Tiny people. We’re walking around inside this republic like a nine-year-old boy wearing his father’s suit. When the tiny people got in power, they changed what was taught in school. No great books, no big people. Everybody’s tiny now. Well, let me tell you something. Greatness is real. And giants come along. You might be one. The opportunity is there, right now.

  REED: I’m an officer of the bank. I can’t be compromised by accepting gifts.

  ETHAN: You’re still on the cake? It’s a cake. My wife made it for you. I can’t eat it. With my arteries. You’re stuck with it.

  REED: Let’s take a look at the numbers, shall we?

  ETHAN: My best quarter’s coming up.

  REED: Obviously we go by what’s here.

  ETHAN: Right. We’re the numbers people. But arithmetic is a limited language, my friend. Is it hot in here?

  REED: I don’t know.

  ETHAN: You don’t know if you’re hot?!

  REED: Any other documentation you want to include?

  ETHAN: I’d just like to say, this picture’s going to improve.

  REED: You’re the homeowner’s
spouse.

  ETHAN: I’m her husband and her accountant.

  REED: But the notes are in your wife’s name.

  ETHAN: I have a power of attorney. I can make a deal.

  REED: What kind of offer can you make?

  ETHAN: Here’s the situation. Tax season’s coming up. That’s when I make my big money. I do taxes.

  REED: Yes. I have your returns here . . .

  ETHAN: See, I did those. I’ve been doing tax prep for forty years. I’ll tell you my philosophy. My advice is my currency. When I give bad advice, it’s a breach. People come to me ’cause I’m supposed to know. Bad advice is a debt.

  REED: Ms. Cortez was fully informed of the terms before she signed these loans.

  ETHAN: You know that? Were you there?

  REED: The box is checked.

  ETHAN: You don’t know that.

  REED: The box is checked.

  ETHAN: Come on. Remember, you’re talking to an accountant.

  REED: Mr. Goldklang, let’s call things by their right name. Accounting is a hobby for you.

  ETHAN: What do you mean, a hobby?

  REED: It’s inconsequential. You’re eligible for food stamps.

  ETHAN: I don’t get food stamps.

  REED: You could. You’re impoverished.

  ETHAN: Fine. I’m poor. Help me.

  REED: There are institutions for that.

  ETHAN: This is an institution.

  REED: Not that kind.

  ETHAN: Do you have a family?

  REED: I thought you were here to make an offer?

  ETHAN: You don’t have enough money? She needs an extension. I’ll go into overdrive for tax season and catch her up. You can wait till April fifteenth for Chrissakes.

  REED: Mmm. I’m not authorized to indefinitely postpone payment . . .

  ETHAN: There’s nothing indefinite about April fifteenth. She’s been making payments for fourteen years. We’re talking about four months.

  REED: The account is already significantly in arrears.

  ETHAN: So she’s late. Haven’t you ever been late for anything?

  REED: I don’t matter. It’s the bank.

  ETHAN: What do you mean, you don’t matter? You’re a human being. You matter.

  REED: No. It’s the bank.

  ETHAN: What are you talking about? The bank matters but you don’t? What kind of statement is that?

  REED: Aaa. Mr. Goldklang . . .

  ETHAN: Do you have any beliefs?

  REED: All right. This isn’t going anywhere.

  ETHAN: Can you relate to me as a human being?

  REED: It doesn’t matter how I relate to you.

  ETHAN: What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? What else is there?

  REED: This is about the bank’s point of view. Not mine.

  ETHAN: Wake up. Banks don’t have a point of view. Banks don’t have eyes. They don’t have skin. They don’t have kidneys. There’s only us.

  REED: There’s a bank. It’s a business. And the business has rights.

  ETHAN: It’s been my experience when people say business, they mean brutality.

  REED: There’s no point in making this a confrontation.

  ETHAN: Are you insane? You’re throwing us out of our house!

  REED: Not me.

  ETHAN: Yes, you. Wake up.

  REED: Eviction proceedings are outside my purview.

  ETHAN: Be a man at least.

  REED: Look. Don’t assume things.

  ETHAN: Do you have a cock in your pants?

  REED: Aaa. Mr. Goldklang.

  ETHAN: You will pay a price for this in the court of human truth, mister! That court convenes in a man’s soul and nothing can stop it! You will wake up in pain for the things you do! I’ve lived long enough to know that!

  REED (Referring to the cake): Please take this and go.

  (Ethan stands up.)

  ETHAN: You take the goddamn cake! You’re stuck with it! You’re a flunky. You’re a slave! When did you sign away your ass? When did you give up being a man?

  REED: YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’VE GIVEN UP, MR. GOLDKLANG! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’VE GIVEN UP!

  (Ethan looks odd.)

  ETHAN: What? Aaahhh . . .

  REED: What is it?

  ETHAN: Nothing. Call my wife. Call my wife. (He slowly collapses, knocking over stuff)

  REED: Mr. Goldklang?

  (Ethan gives Reed the finger as he passes out on the floor. Reed picks up a phone.)

  I think I need an ambulance.

  (Sound of an ambulance. Lights.)

  Scene 2

  The office of the Bronx borough president, Donaldo Calderon. The place has a cheap importance: wood paneling and wall sconces with frosted glass. There are awards, proclamations, a signed baseball bat, certificates from the chamber of commerce and so on. There’s a Christmas tree in the process of being decorated.

  Donaldo is genial, good-looking, half-Italian, half-Puerto Rican, somewhere in his forties, a man very much in command of himself. He wears a suit. Maybe he could lose a few pounds. There’s a cake box on his desk, and a slice of cake on a paper plate. He sits with Jessie Cortez. She’s black, fifty-three, and dressed in Sunday clothes.

  DONALDO: Mm, mm, mm! Jessie, thanks for the cake.

  JESSIE: Donaldo, they’re gonna throw me out of my house.

  DONALDO: What?

  JESSIE: Your mother said you would help me, Donaldo.

  DONALDO: My mother is the Queen. If Mama said I will help you, I have no choice.

  JESSIE: They’re gonna throw me out of my house.

  DONALDO: Who?

  JESSIE: The bank.

  DONALDO: You’re behind?

  JESSIE: Eight months.

  DONALDO: Eight months? You shouldn’t have let it go so long, Jessie.

  JESSIE: They hit me with this maroon payment. Wiped me out.

  DONALDO: What’s that? Maroon payment? You mean balloon payment.

  JESSIE: I call it a maroon payment ’cause my house is underwater so I’m marooned.

  DONALDO: That’s great except nobody knows what the hell you’re talking about. What about Ethan? Can he help?

  JESSIE: Ethan had a heart attack.

  DONALDO: No. What do you mean?! When?

  JESSIE: Tuesday. He got in a fight with the bank, then he couldn’t breathe so they took him to Jacobi.

  DONALDO: How is he?

  JESSIE: He’s got to take it easy now. He can’t be going head-to-head with no bank.

  DONALDO: What bank is it?

  JESSIE: First Circle.

  DONALDO: You serious? Circle Bank?

  JESSIE: First Circle. That’s right.

  DONALDO: I’m meeting with the CEO of that Tuesday. They’re financing a big project that’s very good for us.

  JESSIE: Who’s us?

  DONALDO: Everybody. The Bronx.

  JESSIE: Well, I’m in the Bronx. Is it good for me?

  DONALDO: Indirectly.

  JESSIE: That means no.

  DONALDO: Well, let’s talk. Do you have a plan?

  JESSIE: How you mean?

  DONALDO: A payment plan.

  JESSIE: They took this what you call balloon money, which was . . .

  DONALDO (Overlapping): I don’t call it that. That’s what it’s called.

  JESSIE: It was all my savings. Now Ethan has heart disease. I’m up against the wall. You gotta help me.

  DONALDO: So you have no . . . Do you have any assets?

  JESSIE: The house.

  DONALDO: Relatives?

  JESSIE: Worse off than me.

  DONALDO: You see what I’m driving at, Jessie. I can’t walk into Circle Bank and just tell the CEO to forget about the money.

  JESSIE: You don’t need to talk to the CEO. Just my loan officer. Get him to ease up.

  DONALDO: I’m not the right person for that.

  JESSIE: You’re my borough president.

  DONALDO: And proud of it. But I have serious business with that b
ank and I will not jeopardize it by mucking around with some loan officer. It could be perceived as a conflict of interest.

  JESSIE: How’s that?

  DONALDO: I have enemies, all right? The Latinos hate me ’cause my mother’s Italian, and the Italians hate me because my father’s Puerto Rican.

  JESSIE: This isn’t about you.

  DONALDO: It is if I get into it.

  JESSIE: Forget all that! You stop the bank! I have a sick man, no place to go, worked hard all my life. That house is all I’ve got to show.

  DONALDO: I get it.

  JESSIE: You get nothing. I lose that house, you’re going to hell!

  DONALDO: Me?

  JESSIE: You took this job. You’re my president. Some people say you got no compassion.

  DONALDO: You know better than that.

  JESSIE: I don’t know anything since the politics got you.

  DONALDO: What, you think politics turned my head?

  JESSIE: I think it’s cheapened your spirit.

  DONALDO: I work hard for the Bronx!

  JESSIE: Some people say you’re packing your bags. Gonna jump ship for a pot of gold.

  DONALDO: I have the right to build a career, Jessie.

  JESSIE: Don’t get huffy with me.

  DONALDO: You didn’t say this to my mother.

  JESSIE: What point would there be? Your mother thinks you’re a great man.

  DONALDO: But you know better, huh?

  JESSIE: YOU know better. You know what a great man is. You’re the other thing.

  (Donaldo picks up the cake, starts eating.)

  DONALDO: Tell you what. Why don’t you talk to Councilman Acosta. I’ll give you the number.

  JESSIE: Oh no you don’t, Donaldo! You’re gonna help me.

  (He slams down the cake plate.)

  DONALDO: Not while you’re talking to me like that! Look, I appreciate the cake, but my mandate is to get jobs into the borough—that and land use.

  JESSIE: My house is built on land.

  DONALDO: If I help one person at the expense of many, I’m not doing my job.

  JESSIE: Come on. You’d be okay with helping one person if the one person was you.

  DONALDO: Look! The banks aren’t interested in talking to me about your debt.