Our Lady of 121st Street Read online

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Dedicated with love to the following:

Maurice Guirgis, Therese Cunningham Guirgis, and Marie Therese

Guirgis—Rock, Heart, and Touchstone

The LAByrinth Theater Company—Family

Philip Seymour Hoffman—Brother

and to

KaDee Strickland—Most. Best. For Real. Forever. I Love You.

Table of Contents

Title Page

OUR LADY OF 121st STREET

CAST OF CHARACTERS

SETTING

CHARACTERS

ACT I: LATE MORNING

Scene 1: Ortiz Funeral Home. Main viewing room. Balthazar and Vic stand in front of an empty casket.

Scene 2: The church. Walter “Rooftop” Desmond confesses.

Scene 3: Flip and Gail by the bathroom—midstream

Scene 4: Norca and Balthazar, a hallway In the funeral home. Midstream.

Scene 5: Edwin and Pinky, funeral home waiting room.

Scene 6: Inez and Norca, Bar and Grill

Scene 7: Rooftop in the Confessional

ACT II: NIGHT

Scene 1: Bar and Grill, 10 p.m.

Scene 2: The Bar and Grill, 2 a.m.

Scene 3: Main viewing room, 5 a.m.

JESUS HOPPED THE A TRAIN

CAST OF CHARACTERS

SETTING

CHARACTERS

ACT I

Scene 1: Manhattan Correctional Center, “The Tombs.” Darkness. Late night. Angel Cruz, alone, tries to pray.

Scene 2: Manhattan Correctional Center, legal consultations room. Mary Jane and Angel (beaten up) midstream.

Scene 3: The yard. Protective custody, Rikers Island. Lucius Jenkins, an older inmate, is in an outdoor cage burning through the end of a vigorous workout. D‘Amico rises from his seated post.

Scene 4: Mary Jane speaks

Scene 5: The yard. Protective custody, Rikers Island. Lucius Jenkins is in his outdoor cage jogging furiously in place.

Scene 6: Manhattan Correctional Center: legal consultations room. Angel alone, more beaten up. Mary Jane enters, tentatively.

Scene 7: The yard, protective custody. A month later. Mary Jane speaks as Lucius Jenkins and Angel Cruz are being led into their cages.

ACT II

Scene 1: The yard, days later.

Scene 2: Visitations Area: Rikers Island. Two days later.

Scene 3: Charlie D‘Amico speaks.

Scene 4: The yard, midstream.

Scene 5

IN ARABIA, WE’D ALL BE KINGS

CAST OF CHARACTERS

SETTING

CHARACTERS

ACT 1

Scene 1: Monday. 3 a.m. The bar.

Scene 2. Monday morning. 9 a.m. An office on Thirty-seventh Street.

Scene 3: Monday. Late morning. The bar.

Scene 4: Monday night. The bar.

ACT 2

Scene 1: Eighth Avenue. Tuesday, 2 a.m.

Scene 2. The bar, Tuesday afternoon.

Scene 3: Tuesday night. Eighth Avenue. Demaris, alone and wasted.

ACT 3

Scene 1: The bar. Wednesday morning

Scene 2; Wednesday night. A park bench near the Westside Highway. Skank is nodding. Charlie enters holding a bag with a Darth Vader mask in it.

Scene 3. Dawn. A park bench near the West Side Highway. Skank is drinking his hot chocolate. A beat. Lenny runs by with a purse.

ACCLAIM FOR THE PLAYS OF STEPHEN ADLY GUlRGIS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Copyright Page

OUR LADY OF 121st STREET

Our Lady of 121st Street was originally produced by the LAByrinth Theater Company, Jinn S. Kim, John Gould Rubin, and Robin Framer at Center Stage, New York, on September 16, 2002. Subsequently produced at the Union Square Theatre by the LAByrinth Theater Company, John Gould Rubin, Ira Pittelman, Robyn Goodman, Ruth Hendel, and Daryl Roth on March 6, 2003.

Both productions were directed by Philip Seymour Hoffman; sets were designed by Marelle Sissions; costumes by Mimi O’Donnell; lights by James Vermeulen; and sound by Eric DeArmon. The production stage manager was Monica Moore.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Victor Richard Petrocelli

Balthazar Felix Solis

Rooftop Ron Cephas Jones

Father Lux Mark Hammer

Flip Russell G. Jones

Gail Scott Hudson (Union Square); David Deblinger (Center Stage, NY)

Inez Portia

Norca Liza Colon-Zayas

Edwin David Zayas

Pinky Al Roffe

Marcia Elizabeth Canavan

Sonia Melissa Feldman

SETTING

In and around the Ortiz Funeral Home, Harlem

CHARACTERS

Victor, Italian-American, early fifties

Balthazar, Latino, mid-thirties

Rooftop, African-American, mid-forties

Father Lux, white, mid-seventies

Flip, African-American, thirty-seven

Gail, white, thirty-seven

Inez, African-American, late thirties

Norca, Latina, late thirties

Edwin, Latino, late thirties

Pinky, Latino, late thirties

Marcia, white, mid-thirties

Sonia, white, early thirties

ACT I: LATE MORNING

Scene 1: Ortiz Funeral Home. Main viewing room. Balthazar and Vic stand in front of an empty casket.

VIC: What kinda fuckin’ world is this?!

BALTHAZAR: Mmm.

VIC: I mean, am I alone here?!

BALTHAZAR: “Alone,” “not alone”—

VIC: What did she ever do anyway, huh?! What did Rose ever do till the day she died but be a fuckin’ living saint on this earth to deserve this … this sacrilege!

BALTHAZAR: Sister Rose was a good woman.

VIC: There are limits—I don’t give a shit! Maybe you grew up in a godless jungle, but I remember when the world was not this! And this? This is not the world!

BALTHAZAR: Okay.

VIC: Her fuckin’ father, he should rot in hell! That’s first off! Demons should shit in his mouth daily, the Irish punk! Don’t take much guts to beat on a woman, ya get me?

BALTHAZAR: I wasn’t aware of her history—

VIC: Why you think she became a nun anyway, beautiful girl like that? All this “needle exchange,” “alcoholic drunk tank” she had runnin’ up here? “Gangs” this, “stop the violence” that? All that thankless shit she did? Was it because she was a good person? Sure. But if ya look underneath it all, it’s two things: she donned the habit because she was terrified of intimacy, and all them programs was a way to atone for the sins of her fuckin’ piece-of-dirt Shanty-Irish Mick-fuck father!

BALTHAZAR: Hey, what’s your name?

VIC: My name?

BALTHAZAR: Yeah, friend, tell me your name.

VIC: It’s Victor. Why?

BALTHAZAR: You wanna drink, Vic? A little nip? Take the edge off?

VIC: I prefer to keep my edge on, pal.

(BALTHAZAR drinks from a half-pint bottle.)

BALTHAZAR: Gotta ask you about your pants, Vic.

VIC: My pants?

BALTHAZAR: You are aware that you’re not wearing pants?

VIC: Of course I’m aware—they stole ’em!

BALTHAZAR: Where’d you sleep last night, Vic?

VIC: I slept here last night, and my name is Victor, not Vic.

BALTHAZAR: That’s quite uncommon, isn’t it? A mourner sleeping over at a wake?

VIC: What are you, a cop?

BALTHAZAR: No, Vic, I’m a farmer. I came here to sell some eggs.

VIC: You accusing me of something?!

BALTHAZAR: I’m
sorry. I’m not accusing, sir, just, I get a call, I come here, there’s a man ranting in his underwear, a missing corpse, no sign of forced entry—and it’s not the corpse of Ned the Wino or Bobo the Clown that’s been stolen, it’s our Sister Rose, sir. Sister Rose.

VIC: Look, I came over in the mornin’ yesterday, it was a fuckin’ mad house in here, okay?! Crackhead junkies, politicians, reporters, screaming babies, I had ta leave. I came back at closin’, tossed the funeral guy a couple hundred bucks … I wanted, I needed a little time, all right?!

BALTHAZAR: Okay.

VIC: I knew her my whole life since we were six, for Christ’s sake.

BALTHAZAR: I understand.

VIC: These fuckin’ people, yesterday? Some of them showin’ up in dirty jeans and T-shirts?! Eating pizza?! Little kids with video games makin’ loud electrical noises?! I mean, “What goes on here,” no?! … I saw one mothahfuckah kneelin’ in front of Rose’s casket, he’s prayin’, then his fuckin’ cell phone goes off and he … he fuckin’ answers it!! Has a goddamn conversation in Spanish, and not a short one … Talkin’ loud too—“Mira, mira, mira”—kneelin’ over her fuckin’ casket!! I mean, what the fuck is that, mister?! Can you tell me?! Cuz I’m at a loss over here—

BALTHAZAR: Grief takes different forms.

VIC: That ain’t grief! I don’t know what the fuck that is, but it ain’t grief!

BALTHAZAR: I once knew a guy—hey now, listen ta me.

VIC: I’m here.

BALTHAZAR: True Story: I once knew a guy, a coupla detectives went to his apartment to inform him that his son had been raped and murdered in the playground up on a hundred thirty-seventh—

VIC: Jesus …

BALTHAZAR: You know what his reaction was? And keep in mind this is a man who loved his son dearly, okay? His reaction was: He wouldn’t leave the house to I.D. the body until after the Knicks game was over … It was “the playoffs,” he said. They watched the whole fourth quarter together in silence. He served them ham sandwiches with warm beer. And this is a man who lived … for his son.

(BALTHAZAR takes another swig from his bottle.)

BALTHAZAR: I am going to close this casket now. You are going to go outside and speak to my partner. He will secure you a new pair of pants. Where you live, Vic? Brooklyn? Queens?

VIC: Staten Island.

BALTHAZAR: We’ll have a squad car drive you home.

VIC: I’m here for the duration.

BALTHAZAR: Okay. Crime Scene needs to work through this room now, Vic. When they’re done, the room will be open again. Okay?

VIC: Fine.

BALTHAZAR: My partner’s outside in front of a black-and-gray Ford. Ya can’t miss him, he’s Chinese and he walks with a pronounced limp.

VIC: For the record, I had nuthin’ to do with this.

BALTHAZAR: I don’t think that you did.

VIC: Just make sure you catch the mothahfuckah.

BALTHAZAR: Sister Rose was my teacher. I liked her very much.

VIC: Ya know, if Rudy were still in office, this woulda never happened—I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t of took this lyin’ down for two seconds.

BALTHAZAR: My partner—he’s right outside.

VIC: Right … Say … Did they ever catch that guy?

BALTHAZAR: What guy?

VIC: The guy who murdered the kid.

BALTHAZAR: No … No, not yet.

VIC: What, uh, what ever happened to the guy with the ham sandwiches?

BALTHAZAR: The guy with the ham sandwiches?

VIC: Yeah …

BALTHAZAR: Why? You want one?

VIC: One what?

BALTHAZAR: A ham sandwich.

VIC: Do I …?

BALTHAZAR: It’s a joke, Vic. I’m joking.

VIC: Not funny. Not funny at all.

Scene 2: The church. Walter “Rooftop” Desmond confesses.

ROOFTOP: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned … (pause) … a lot, know what I’m sayin? … Yes, sir … Um … Are you there, Father?

FATHER LUX: Yes.

ROOFTOP: All right, juss checkin’ … That you, Father Martin?

FATHER LUX: Uh, no.

ROOFTOP: Father Cunningham?

FATHER LUX: No.

ROOFTOP: Oh … Where Father Cunningham at?

FATHER LUX: Excuse me?

ROOFTOP: I say, where Father Cunningham at?

FATHER LUX: Father Cunningham?

ROOFTOP: Yeah.

FATHER LUX: He’s—no longer with us.

ROOFTOP: Father C, you talkin’ ’bout?

FATHER LUX: Yes.

ROOFTOP: “No longer with us,” huh?

FATHER LUX: Yes.

ROOFTOP: Father C?

FATHER LUX: Correct.

ROOFTOP: He didn’t do something “bad,” did he?

FATHER LUX: He’s dead.

ROOFTOP: Dead?!

FATHER LUX: With God, yes.

ROOFTOP: Well, pardon me, but—why didn’t you just say that then?

FATHER LUX: What?

ROOFTOP: I’m sayin’, if the man’s dead, juss say he dead.

FATHER LUX: I did.

ROOFTOP: Nah, you said “no longer with us”—like … like a “scandal” or something.

FATHER LUX: Are you here to make confession, sir?

ROOFTOP: Yes, I am, but Father C was a close, personal friend of mine, and I can’t really appreciate—

FATHER LUX: Father Cunningham has been dead for fifteen years, sir, okay?!

(Pause)

ROOFTOP: Oh … Okay … Sorry …

FATHER LUX: … So how long since your last confession?

ROOFTOP: My last confession?

FATHER LUX: Yes.

ROOFTOP: The last one?

FATHER LUX: Yes.

ROOFTOP: You mean in a church?

FATHER LUX: In a church, yes.

ROOFTOP: Right. Well … last one been …

FATHER LUX: Yes.

ROOFTOP: Well … well, it’s been … Know what I’m sayin’? It’s been been. Definitely been been.

FATHER LUX: Okay.

ROOFTOP: Put it like this: my first confession?, that was my last time checkin’ in with y’all, so, yeah, been a while … been … well …

FATHER LUX: Got it. Proceed.

ROOFTOP: Cuz I mean, ya know, my moms raised me right, went to school right upstairs, listened ta the nuns, Sister Rose and all, still … Shit! Is Father C really dead?!

FATHER LUX: What?

ROOFTOP: Cuz I was hopin’ ta get Father C.

FATHER LUX: Sir—

ROOFTOP: Guess everybody got ta go, right?

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