Chapter I: Part 1

THE UNDERCURRENT

THE UNDERCURRENT

_A One Act Play_

BY
FAY EHLERT

PREFACE BY
JOHN POLLOCK

SAMUEL FRENCH
Thos. R. Edwards Managing Director
NEW YORK LOS ANGELES

SAMUEL FRENCH LTD. LONDON
1929

_ALL RIGHTS RESERVED_

Copyright 1928 by The Drama Magazine

First Revision copyright 1929 by Fay Ehlert

International copyright 1929 by Fay Ehlert

_CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that “THE UNDERCURRENT,” being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, the British Empire, including the Dominion of Canada, and all other countries of the Copyright Union, is subject to a royalty. All rights, including professional, amateur, motion pictures, recitation, public reading, radio broadcasting, and the rights of translation into foreign languages are strictly reserved. In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only. All inquiries, regarding this play should be addressed to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N. Y. Available for amateurs in restricted territory only. Royalty will be quoted for those cities or towns where it may be presented by amateurs upon application to Samuel French._

MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC., BINGHAMTON, N. Y.

_Dedicated in appreciation_

TO
MORT SINGER
BEN J. PIAZZA

THROUGH WHOM “THE UNDERCURRENT”
FOUND ITS WAY TO THE PROFESSIONAL
STAGE

FOREWORD

“The Undercurrent” is a page from life’s drama. From the very beginning—in the days when I haunted the Morals Court, the Domestic Relation Court and the Psychopathic Laboratory, I have always been drawn to our countless Annies, beaten, swept along, vague about everything in life—even their destination. And never have I found it in my heart to blame them for their plight. Sometimes people have said to me: “But Mrs. Ehlert, you can’t tell me that this girl doesn’t realize she is doing _wrong_! She knows better than to—” And I have always pleaded: “Please don’t say a word against her, please don’t! Perhaps, if we were in her shoes, we might be ten times worse than she! You never can tell by looking at a person, what undercurrent may be sweeping her along!”

And that is how I came to write this playlet. I took a typical Annie, one that you can find on any street, and thought: “Now, why is she a little street walker? What has been the cause? What may be the undercurrent in _her_ life? What has brought her into the court?”

I didn’t want to preach or teach a lesson. I simply wished to bring _real life_ before audiences; something vital to make them think; to make them more sympathetic in their judgments of others, whether they were “Annies” or “Pa Fishyers.” And the results of my experiment have touched me deeply.

Since our first performance, never have we failed to grip our audiences, to tug at their heartstrings. And these audiences have come from all walks of life, from the highest to the lowest; from women’s clubs, social agencies, churches, charitable organizations, Little Theatres, courts, banks, stores and factories. Not a week passes but we are conscious of the effect our playlet is having upon the lives of others. From the scraggly bouquet of flowers sent over the footlights in Los Angeles with those laboriously scrawled lines: “From one whats got a husband like that” to the ring which a well-groomed Brooklyn woman insisted upon giving me with tears in her eyes, a little silver ring which she had worn on a black velvet ribbon ever since her granddaughter’s death.

And our audiences have not been the only ones to receive us with outstretched hands! Coming into a new world, strange and foreign to us, I don’t know what we should have done had not hundreds of hands reached out to help us along. And these friendly gestures came from the members of the Radio-Keith-Orpheum Circuit, from the theatre managers and their staffs, and from the professional players on the bills with us. I wish to thank them again and again for the personal interest they took in our playlet and their unselfish efforts in our behalf.

It would be impossible for me to mention every individual and institution who graciously helped me launch my playlet on its career, but I would feel very ungrateful were I not to name: Frank Harris, Theodore B. Hinckley, John Vandervoort Sloan, C. J. Bulliet, James Gray, Frank Moneyhun, Fritz Blocki, Katherine Graham, Dr. George Scherger, Mary A. Blood, Edith S. Lueders, Mrs. John B. Boddie, Alice C. D. Riley, Ethel Rogers Swift, Bertha E. Burrill, Helen Sanford, C. Russell Small, May Kronan, Jennie Swanson, Caroline Cooper, the Columbia College of Expression, the University of Chicago, The Town and Gown Playshop of Northwestern University, the Evanston Woman’s Club and the Drama League of Chicago.

As for my untiring cast, their devotion and loyalty to “The Undercurrent” has become almost a by-word in the theatrical world. What would I have done without their assistance? My “six starlets”—God bless them!

And finally, I wish to thank those who in a great measure are responsible for the success of “The Undercurrent,” the press in America and Canada, and the theatrical publications, The Billboard, Inside Facts, The National Vaudeville News, Variety, Zit’s, and last but not least Samuel French, who is publishing “The Undercurrent.”

PREFACE

The one-act play became a theatrical outcast. The waif roamed from door to door but no one bid the poor thing enter. Since the very beginning when Voltaire wrote and played short pieces for the Princes of France—pieces of that nature have encountered innumerable difficulties. They were always appendages of some sort or other. The going was particularly hard in America, until vaudeville and the Little Theatre provided a home for the tabloid play. Then the short dramatic works of eminent authors came into their own. Such writers as Barrie and Synge and Dunsany and Zangwell gave as much to the one-act play as they did to their longer efforts or novels. But the supply did not equal the demand. Everybody began to write one-act plays and soon they had deteriorated to the extent that there was no public for them.

The Little Theatre, having outgrown its babyhood, considered short plays beneath their dignity. Vaudeville discarded them almost entirely. The waif of the theatre became a wanderer, but just as the wanderer was about to curl up in some dark corner and expire, “The Undercurrent” put in an appearance.

For the first time in years, an author had taken the one-act play seriously, attempted to write a piece of dramatic literature that as far as technique was concerned and drama was concerned, was as complete and as much an entirety as the play intended for a full evening’s entertainment.

“The Undercurrent” was not the work of an established author. Writers of that ilk had been weaned away from the short play and would have nothing to do with it. Schools and colleges of course were paying considerable attention to the one-act play, but as the kindergarten of playwriting. The very first step in the course and to be abandoned just as the alphabet and spelling book make way for more advanced studies.

When Mrs. Fay Ehlert announced that the one-act play to her mind deserved serious consideration, she was laughed at, but Mrs. Ehlert is not the kind of a woman who may be laughed at with impunity. She not only stuck to her guns, but determined to prove the accuracy of her marksmanship.

“The Undercurrent” was the result. Writing a short play that treated a serious thought seriously; one that transposed a slice of actual life to paper and the stage in an interesting, virile and vital manner, was the least of her difficulties. Having written such an opus her real troubles began.

“The Undercurrent” found no ready and waiting “welcome on any mat.” It went from one door to another, only to find no latch string hanging out. Mrs. Ehlert was schooled in diplomacy. She is the wife of a Chilean Consul. Patience therefore was one of her many assets. She waited but worked as she waited; and finally succeeded in having “The Undercurrent” entered in the Chicago Little Theatre Tournament of 1928. The rest is a matter of history. “The Undercurrent” won first award. Seldom, if ever before, has a one-act play been in such great demand. And this is as it should be, for certainly not since the short play bowed out of the dramatic picture, no one has written a better, more interesting, or more entertaining playlet than this one.

Vaudeville, always quick to take advantage of opportunity, swept down on “The Undercurrent” like an eagle with the result that the longest consecutive tour ever arranged for any act went to this one of the “untouchables.”

Little Theatres and the innumerable societies who produced plays for social and educational purposes, insisted that they be allowed to present “The Undercurrent.”

Mrs. Ehlert, both because of her ability as a writer and her belief in the fact that drama is drama, regardless of its length, has done a big thing not only for herself but for the theatres in general. She has rekindled an interest in the short play. She has reestablished a public for the short play. She has demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt that even a miscellaneous audience appreciates something really worth while. She has reopened a road that will undoubtedly be traveled by many followers.

The one-act play has again come into its own. Because of Mrs. Ehlert and “The Undercurrent” the serious one-act play will again command the attention of established writers. There will again be a place for its presentation, and what is of even greater importance, is the fact that probably no longer will the one-act play be considered a proving ground for better things. “The Undercurrent” has turned the tide.

JOHN POLLOCK

“The Undercurrent,” winner of The Drama League Cup at the Chicago Little Theatre Tournament, May 1928, was presented by the Town and Gown Play Shop of Northwestern University.

The following is the cast of “The Undercurrent” upon its first professional appearance at the Palace Theatre, Chicago, June 24th, 1928.

PA FISHYER _C. Russell Small_
MA FISHYER _Harriet Allyn_
ANNIE, their daughter _Gladys Pfeffer_
EMIL, their son _Charles White_
MRS. FLOYD, a neighbor _Helen Sanford_
MISS PAGE, a social worker _Ethel Rogers Swift_

Time: The Present Place: New York City

DESCRIPTION OF CHARACTERS

_PA FISHYER, the janitor of the building, is a man of about fifty. He speaks in curt, terse sentences, and is continually grumbling under his breath. He is easily angered and will tolerate no opinion but his own. An honest man, but one who dominates his family through fear._

_MA FISHYER is a ground-down, care-worn woman of perhaps forty-five years of age. She moves quickly and bustles around constantly, as though to hide her nervous fears. She is ever alert to protect her children from her husband’s harsh and relentless methods._

_EMIL is her childish son. Tall, gawky, docile and unobtrusive, he moves with a certain machine-like submission. Twenty-five may be his age._

_ANNIE, about seventeen, is her mother’s greatest “worry,” a bit of human “driftwood.”_

_MRS. FLOYD is a sharp-tongued, meddlesome neighbor_.

_MISS PAGE, capable, sympathetic, and firmly believing that “to understand all, means to forgive all,” is an investigator for the Morals Court._

THE UNDERCURRENT

THE UNDERCURRENT

SCENE: _In the basement kitchen which also does duty as living and dining room in an old-fashioned New York apartment building. An air of orderliness pervades the room, which is furnished with the meager belongings of the Fishyer family. Shabby, faded curtains hang limply on each side of the small iron-barred window to the left of the room. The galvanized sink is in the back, flanked on the right by the kitchen range and on the left by an old cupboard. A coat rack has been nailed to the side of this cupboard. Over the sink is a shelf, holding the alarm clock, comb and brush and shaving mug. The kitchen table covered with a red table cloth occupies almost the exact center of the room. Upon the table are four plates, knives, forks, cups and saucers, half a loaf of rye bread, a glass jar filled with teaspoons, and a partly filled bottle of milk. There are four chairs around the table._

_To the left of this table and near the front of the room stands a dilapidated horse-hair sofa. Directly vis-a-vis from this sofa at the Lower Right is a Morris chair which through long usage has sagged and remolded itself to PA FISHYER’S two-hundred odd pounds. The door at the Right leads into a short corridor through which the FISHYER’S must pass in order to reach the bedrooms, boiler room, store-room, back stairs, etc. A small table, ladened with pipes, tobacco jar and the Bible is to Right of this door, and the wall phone to the Left. A clothesline with its motley array of rags has been fastened to the hook above the phone and then stretched diagonally across the stove to the shelf above the sink. As this room is below the street level, it is necessary to mount the short flight of stairs Upper Left in order to reach the areaway door Upper Left._

_It is evening, about 5 minutes of six, and a light snow is falling. The feet of the passers-by can be seen through the dimly frosted window panes._

_MA FISHYER is peering through the window. Her whole attitude is one of terrible anxiety and she turns with a half sob of relief as she hears the areaway door open stealthily._

MA FISHYER

[_Under her breath._] A-annie?

MRS. FLOYD

[_Stalking down the stairs._] Hello, there!

MA FISHYER

[_Swallowing her disappointment._] Ach, it’s yuh, Mis’ Floyd! I—I thought yuh vas ... [_She turns back to the window again_] ... s-somebody else!

MRS. FLOYD

[_Maliciously._] Didya now! [_Eyes ANNIE’S place at table._] Who fer instance?

MA FISHYER

Ach, eferybody alvays comes to de jeniter for something ... maybe Mis’ Richards about de g-garbage pails....

MRS. FLOYD

... or mebbe even Annie, huh?

MA FISHYER

[_Unaware of the other’s curt smile._] Shure, it’s Thursday to-day ... and she alvays comes....

MRS. FLOYD

Is that so? Well, ya never kin tell! [_Shakes fist at door Right._] Huh, I got some news to spill in yer ear! [_Seats herself in PA FISHYER’S chair, Right of table._]

MA FISHYER

Ach, not—not now! [_Still peering out of window._] Pa’ll be here right avay and by six he vants to eat. Not a minute efter six vill he vait.... [_She looks at the clock._]

MRS. FLOYD

[_Leaning over._] It’s about someone ya know!

MA FISHYER

... and ef Annie ain’t here on time.... [_She turns startled as MRS. FLOYD’S last words reach her._] ... A-about somevun vat I know ... vat I k-know?

MRS. FLOYD

[_Venting her spite._] I’ll tell de world ya do!

MA FISHYER

It ain’t nothin’ bad?

MRS. FLOYD

Bad? Well! [_She glares at the door Right._] I imagine some people what thinks _my_ son ain’t good company fer their daughter—certainly are going to have a fit to-night! [_With compressed lips._] I’ll say _he_ is! Yes, siree!

MA FISHYER

[_Coming slowly towards her._] It ain’t ’bout Annie?

MRS. FLOYD

Nuthin’ else but!

MA FISHYER

[_Moans._] Ach! [_Goes fearfully towards door Right and, half opening it, listens intently._]

MRS. FLOYD

My son may be a little wild, but he ain’t never been _arrested_ yet.

MA FISHYER

Arrest.... [_She darts forward and puts her hand over MRS. FLOYD’S mouth._] Shhhh!

MRS. FLOYD

[_Sputtering._] Say....

MA FISHYER

[_She glances terror-stricken to door._] Pleese to go now—he-he’s comin’, h-he’s c-comin’!

MRS. FLOYD

What of it? I ain’t skeered of him.

MA FISHYER

P-pleese, not now! [_Desperately._] Not now—come efter vile ... pleese ... [_Tugs at her dress._]

MRS. FLOYD

[_Rising._] All right! I’ll go! [_Shakes her off._] But stop pushing! I’m going! [_Hobbles up the stairs and slams door. Before MA FISHYER can breathe her relief, she opens the door again._] But I’ll be back later!

MA FISHYER

Yess, yess, l-later....

[_Scarcely has the door closed after MRS. FLOYD when PA FISHYER
enters wearily from door Right._]

FISHYER

[_Throwing his denim jacket over Morris chair._] Huh! [_He strides over to the sink and begins washing himself._] Huh! Supper ready?

MA FISHYER

[_At the table._] A-almost....

FISHYER

[_He growls._] Almost? Don’tcha know yess or no? [_He pushes up his spectacles and glares at the clock._] Vere’s Annie? It’s nearly six already!

MA FISHYER

De c-clock iss a l-little f-fest.... [_Walks nervously to window._]

FISHYER

Fest? Dat clock iss _alvays_ right, yuh hear me? Alvays right!

MA FISHYER

Yess, P-pa!

FISHYER

[_His wrath increasing._] Vell, vere iss she?

MA FISHYER

[_Busies herself at stove._] Na, Pa, she’ll be h-here eny minute soon! Yuh know, h-how de l-lady k-keeps her! [_She glances at the door through which MRS. FLOYD has left._] And m-maybe—in dis b-bed veather, she kent come at all!

FISHYER

Vat! [_Drying his hands._]

MA FISHYER

I—I mean—efen in _good_ veather, only vunce a veek does she haff a day off.

FISHYER

Dat’ll do! [_Throws towel on sink._] Ve vait ’til six ... [_Takes Bible from table and seats himself in Morris chair._] ... and den ve eat! [_Groans as he rubs his rheumatic left arm. EMIL enters from door Right._] Na, Dummy, vat did she vant? [_Points upward._]

EMIL

[_Timidly._] She fergot her key and....

FISHYER

... and yuh hed to open de door for her! [_He growls._] Vy don’t yuh say dat right avay? [_He begins reading the Bible, following each word with his finger._]

MA FISHYER

Come, Emil ... [_She nods warningly in Fishyer’s direction._] ... and vash yerself.

FISHYER

[_He reads laboriously._] “Train op a child in de vay he should go ... [_Glares at EMIL and then repeats._] ... de vay he _should_ go! [_Reads._] ... and ven he iss old ... [_Repeats to himself._] ... old ... he vill not depart from it....”

[_There is a knock at the outer door Left and MA FISHYER stands
transfixed, her face ashen. EMIL, his hands half-washed, looks
inquiringly at his father._]

FISHYER

Na, open de door!

EMIL

[_Hurriedly wiping his hands on his trousers, he mounts the steps and opens the door._] Whatcha want?

MISS PAGE

Good evening! Does Annie Fishyer live here?

EMIL

Yeh ... [_He shuffles back to the sink._] ... come on in!

MISS PAGE

[_Descending the stairs._] Thank you. I wasn’t quite sure. [_Kindly to MA FISHYER._] You must be Annie’s mother and....

FISHYER

I em Karl Fishyer!

MISS PAGE

Ah, yes, Annie’s father. [_She smiles her quick warm smile._] I don’t think you know me. I am Miss Page, a special investigator from the Morals Court!

MA FISHYER

[_Tremulously to FISHYER._] De lady, Pa, de l-lady vat Annie v-vorks f-for....

FISHYER

So?

MISS PAGE

[_Surprised._] Works for me?

MA FISHYER

[_Hurriedly._] Pleese to come and sit down, Mis’, here on de sofa! [_She deftly dusts the sofa with a swish of her apron and then steps back and looks at MISS PAGE apprehensively._]

MISS PAGE

I think you are mistaking me.... [_She stops as she sees MA FISHYER’S drawn face._]

MA FISHYER

[_Indicating the sofa._] P-pleese, Mis’....

[_PA FISHYER meanwhile replaces the Bible on the table. MISS
PAGE sits down without another word._]

MA FISHYER

[_Quickly._] Annie a-ain’t home yet, b-but....

MISS PAGE

[_Puzzled._] Isn’t home yet? Are you expecting her?

FISHYER

Huh? [_He turns towards them._] Shure—I expect her to come!

MA FISHYER

Y-yess, she always c-c-comes here on her day off—Pa means!

MISS PAGE

[_Probing gently._] Her day off?

MA FISHYER

Maybe she n-nefer tells yuh, b-but she alvays c-c-comes here Thursdays. [_She wets her lips._] D-don’t she, Pa?

FISHYER

[_Grudgingly_] Huh! [_To MISS PAGE._] Since she’s vid yuh, Mis’, yess!

MA FISHYER

[_She talks to MISS PAGE, but her eyes are anxiously on FISHYER._] And efery cent vat she earns by yuh, she brings to her Pa!

MISS PAGE

She—does what? [_Drawing off her gloves._]

MA FISHYER

E-efery cent she brings to her Pa! She iss a fine girl....

FISHYER

[_Cutting her short._] Vat’s dot to brag ofer?

MISS PAGE

[_Soothingly._] _Well_, I’m sure Annie is....

MA FISHYER

[_Eagerly._] Yuh hear, Pa? Efen Mis’ Page sez vat a fine Annie ve got.

FISHYER

Huh, she’s purty goot _now_! But before she vent mit yuh, Mis’ ... [_He clenches his fist in wrath._] ... I—her fadder—didn’t know vhere she vas for three months efen.... [_MISS PAGE suppresses a start._]

MA FISHYER

[_Imploringly._] But Pa, yuh know _now_ vere she vas! [_To MISS PAGE._] H-he m-means de time ven she v-vas by yuh in ... [_She swallows hard._] ... de _country_.

[_MISS PAGE conceals her astonishment._]

FISHYER

Efen ef she vas....

MA FISHYER

... and how vell she looked ven....

FISHYER

... she come home agen! [_He paces angrily back and forth._] I hear dot a million times already, too!

MA FISHYER

But P-pa....

FISHYER

All I say iss—dot’s no vay to treat yur fadder! And efter de strict bringing op I giff de children, dey must remember—alvays—dat I em dere fadder! _I em de boss here!_ [_To EMIL crouching against the wall._] Yuh hear me?

MA FISHYER

[_Imploringly._] Pa, pleese, Pa.

FISHYER

[_Glaring at the clock._] It’s six; ve eat now! [_He seats himself at table Right and begins slicing bread, motions EMIL to his seat, EMIL sits facing the audience._]

MISS PAGE

[_She has been watching them attentively._] Yes, don’t let me interrupt you!

FISHYER

I alvays eat at six! [_Turns towards stove._] Vere iss dot girl? [_MA comes to table with platter of stew which she places quickly before him._] Vat time yuh let her come to-day, Mis’...?

[_Before she can answer, steps are heard and ANNIE enters
hurriedly from the areaway door._]

FISHYER

Dere she iss! [_Points at her with knife._]

ANNIE

[_Breathlessly._] Oh, Pa, I couldn’t ... I couldn’t help it, I wuz.... [_She sees EMIL’S finger surreptitiously signaling MISS PAGE’S presence. She gives MISS PAGE a terror-stricken look, then shrinks back against the wall for support._]

ANNIE

[_Gasps_] Oh!

MA FISHYER

[_She goes towards her quickly and holding her tight against her breast, speaks so as to give her time to recover._] Ach, no vunder she iss surprised to see her lady here!

ANNIE

[_Clinging to her._] Ma!

MISS PAGE

[_Slowly, with great significance._] I had an errand to do in this neighborhood, Annie, and as I passed this house, I stopped in ... [_Sees MA FISHYER’S pleading look._] ... to ... to get acquainted with your parents!

FISHYER

And ve are gled to know yuh also. [_He motions to the table._] Yuh eat mit us?

[_EMIL pushes out ANNIE’S chair for her._]

MISS PAGE

No, thank you. If you don’t mind, I’ll just sit here.

FISHYER

Shure! Make yurself to home.

[_He bangs on the table with his knife._] Ma, ve eat now!

[_ANNIE hangs her coat and hat on coat rack._]

FISHYER

[_Motioning to ANNIE._] Sit down! [_ANNIE slips into her chair, facing her father. MA FISHYER brings coffee pot to table._]

MISS PAGE

[_Observing EMIL with interest._] I didn’t know Annie had a brother.

MA FISHYER

[_Hurriedly, before FISHYER can answer._] Ach, yess, and sotch a good boy! He helps his Pa take care off de house.

FISHYER

[_Grudgingly._] Huh!

MA FISHYER

[_Dishing out the food to EMIL and ANNIE._] And some day, he’ll be a jeniter, too! And like our coffee man sez: “Jeniter vork iss nuthin’ to sneeze at!” So vat vid Pa’s rheumatism, ve are gled to haff Emil help so nice!

FISHYER

Emil—bahhh! [_EMIL crouches behind his mother’s arm._]

MA FISHYER

And yuh haff no idea, Mis’, how mutch vork dere iss here to do! [_Pours coffee._] So vid our Emil....

[_FISHYER laughs derisively._]

MISS PAGE

[_Soothingly._] Yes, you must be kept very busy, Mr. Fishyer!

FISHYER

Bizzy? Yuh don’t know it, Mis’, how crazy ... [_He points upward with his knife._] ... dose vomens get me! First, vun comes and sez de vater iss too hot—dat efery time she turns it on—she a Turkish bath gets! Den.... [_The phone rings._] Yuh see, not efen peace on a meal I got.... [_Pushes back his chair._]

MA FISHYER

Vait, Pa, I go! [_She hurries to phone._] Hollo! Yess, Mis’ Richards, yess, he _iss_ by de boiler ... [_PA FISHYER motions for EMIL to go out._] ... puttin’ more coal on! Yess, mam! [_She turns from phone just in time to see EMIL’S scowling gesture at his father’s back._] Emil! [_Grabs his cap in frantic haste._] Yur cap ... [_Pushes him towards door Right._] ... quick!

[_PA FISHYER, unaware of what is passing in back of his chair,
pounds the table emphatically, with his fist._

_With a terrified look, EMIL rushes out, letting MA FISHYER
close the door behind him._]

FISHYER

[_He raises his head stubbornly._] I tell yuh, dat voman could by de devil sit and yet be cold!

MA FISHYER

Yess, yess, Pa! But ve are gled to haff dis job! And vat ... mit our Emil and Annie helpin’ so nice....

FISHYER

Helpin’! Bahhhh!

MA FISHYER

Ach, Mis’ Page, efery night I thank de good Gott for my Annie....

ANNIE

[_She turns quickly and gives her MOTHER a beseeching glance._] Ma ... oh, M-ma.... [_Her coffee cup falls from her nerveless hand, spilling its contents on her dress._]

FISHYER

Huh!

ANNIE

Pa ... P-pa ... it slipped! I—I’ll change my dress! [_She rushes out door Right._]

FISHYER

[_Looks after her._] Huh!

[_Accuses MA FISHYER while he dips his bread in his coffee._] Fine manners, she got!

[_Phone rings again._]

MA FISHYER

[_Running to phone._] Yess, yess, Mis’ Richards! [_Into receiver._] Hollo.... Yess, Mis’ Richards, he _iss_....

FISHYER

[_Exasperated._] Oh, vat a dummy of a son, I got! [_To MA FISHYER._] Maybe he fell in de coal bin again! [_Exits door Right rubbing his rheumatic left arm._]

[_MA FISHYER turns from the phone, listens a moment at the door
through which PA FISHYER has gone, then quickly crosses the
room to MISS PAGE. Her whole manner has changed; she seems to
have shrunk suddenly._]

MA FISHYER

I em gled to know yuh, Mis’! [_She clasps and unclasps her hands._] And my Annie—my Annie....

MISS PAGE

[_Gently._] Sit down, Mrs. Fishyer!

MA FISHYER

[_She sinks down in Annie’s chair at the left of the table._] She—she iss mit y-yuh?

MISS PAGE

[_Compassionately._] In a way—yes.

MA FISHYER

In a vay?

MISS PAGE

Yes, I am interested in her welfare and am looking after her.

MA FISHYER

[_Scarcely audible._] S-she don’t live m-mit yuh?

MISS PAGE

Not exactly....

MA FISHYER

Ach, don’t tell dis to Pa! [_In despair._] Pleese, pleese, don’t tell him enyding vat iss agenst her!

MISS PAGE

[_Leaning forward._] I don’t understand.

MA FISHYER

If—if he knows eferyding [_Swallowing with difficulty._] ... h-he kills her!

MISS PAGE

[_Gently._] Do _you_ know everything about her?

MA FISHYER

[_Terrified._] No, no, don’t tell me! Pleese not to tell me! I don’t vant to know!

MISS PAGE

Not even when you may be able to help her?

MA FISHYER

[_Shaking her head._] All I kin do ... [_Motioning to the boiler room._] ... iss to keep him from findin’ out d-dings about her! [_She looks her full in the face._] I don’t vant to know enyding agenst my Annie!

MISS PAGE

[_Puzzled._] But if you remain in ignorance—how can you be of assistance?

MA FISHYER

[_Tremulously._] I kin help her only by—knowin’ nodding.

MISS PAGE

What do you mean? You as her mother should be anxious to know.

MA FISHYER

Yess, yuh haff right! But yuh don’t know Pa! [_She whispers._] He alvays suspicions eferybody! Me—Emil—Annie! He dinks I hide from him someding about de children! [_She pauses._] And den—it best iss I don’t know dings. [_Slowly._] Ven yuh don’t know dings, he kent be scoldin’ yuh all de time!

MISS PAGE

[_Aghast._] But—why should he?

MA FISHYER

[_Bitterly._] Ach, vy! Vy should he? [_She passes her hand across her eyes._] Vat kin yuh do mit a man vat hass in his head only _vun idea_!

MISS PAGE

One idea?

MA FISHYER

Vun idea! [_Brokenly._] Dot all children should be brought op _strict_—mit mutch scoldin’ and vhippin’.

MISS PAGE

[_Indignantly._] But can’t you convince him that such harsh methods....

MA FISHYER

[_Sobs._] I k-kin do nodding mit him—no vun kin! [_She beats her clenched fist against her forehead._] He hass dot vun idea in his head and ... [_She stares frantically at the door through which MRS. FLOYD has gone._] ... h-he must n-nefer find out!

MISS PAGE

Find out what? [_As MA FISHYER rocks back and forth weeping._] Don’t be afraid. Tell me.

MA FISHYER

[_Tearfully._] Pleese, Mis’ Page, don’t let him find out dings a-agenst A-Annie! [_Weeps._] P-p-pleese, pleese see I go on m-my knees t-to yuh! [_Sinks down at MISS PAGE’S knees._] Pleese ... p-p-pleese!

MISS PAGE

[_Her eyes filled with tears._] Don’t cry, don’t! [_She places her arm around her shaking shoulders._] Why didn’t you come to see me?

MA FISHYER

[_Weeping as she grasps MISS PAGE’S hands in agony._] Ach, I vanted to c-come so m-meny t-times and esk yuh ... take c-care off Annie! L-look efter her ... b-but I vas afraid!

MISS PAGE

Afraid?

MA FISHYER

Yess, because ... m-maybe....

MISS PAGE

[_She looks with sudden understanding towards ANNIE’S chair._] ... there _was_ no Miss Page?

MA FISHYER

Yess! But n-now I seen yuh! [_She grasps her arms convulsively._] Yuh _vill_ l-look out for her, von’t yuh? [_She wails._] It iss all I haff in de vorld—my two c-children—all I haff. [_Sinks weeping bitterly against MISS PAGE._]

[_EMIL’S whimpering cry is heard from the boiler room._]

EMIL

M-ma! Oh, Ma!

MA FISHYER

[_She starts up._] It’s Emil! Yuh vill oxcuse me? [_Wearily._] I gotta go—he forgot agen to open de valve maybe! [_She grabs her shawl from the coat rack._] And Pa mit hiss rheumatism kent reach op....

[_MISS PAGE rises._]

FISHYER

[_Angrily from the boiler room._] Ma! Yuh hear me?

MA FISHYER

Yess, Pa! [_To MISS PAGE._] Yuh _vill_ take care off her?

FISHYER

Ma! Come here!

MA FISHYER

[_She chokes back the tears as she opens the door to the boiler room._] Yess, Pa, I em c-comin’! [_She whispers back to MISS PAGE._] And pleese, alvays to remember—Pa should know nodding agenst her. [_She backs out murmuring._] No-nodding ... n-nodding.

[_MISS PAGE dries her own tears and looks about the room with
distaste. Then she goes resolutely to the door Right and opens
it._]

MISS PAGE

[_Calling softly._] Annie! Annie! [_Motions._] Come out here! [_MISS PAGE walks to table._]

[_ANNIE enters and closes door softly. She listens attentively,
her face pressed against the door._]

MISS PAGE

[_Back of EMIL’S chair._] What have you been telling them?

ANNIE

[_On the defensive._] Nuthin’ much ... only that I worked for ya as a hired girl!

MISS PAGE

Why did you do that?

ANNIE

[_Back of arm chair._] So’s to get away from here! If he thought I wuz a dish washer in a restaurant I’d hafta live here! [_She shudders._] Nuthin’ doin’! I had seventeen years of it!

MISS PAGE

Yes, but still this is your home.

ANNIE

Yeh! [_Tremulously._] And I know what it’s like!

MISS PAGE

Didn’t you tell anyone? [_ANNIE shakes her head._] Not even your mother?

ANNIE

[_Goes quickly towards MISS PAGE. Aghast._] And have him beat it outta her? Whadda ya think I am?

MISS PAGE

[_Puzzled._] Why did you tell them you worked for me?

ANNIE

Well, I—I hadda give somebody’s name and yuh wuz de only one I could think of! [_Glances quickly towards closed door Right, then pleads._] B-before that happened last year, Miss Page, I n-nearly w-went crazy, and when I fell over _that time_ and ya sent m-me to de home until e-everything wuz over.... I—j-jest sorta never forgotcha!

MISS PAGE

[_Severely._] Yes, but what has that to do with all this?

ANNIE

W-well, I n-needed some sorta alibi fer stayin’ away from here ... [_Moves slowly down stage Right._] ... s-so I—I told ’em I _worked_ for ya and that ya wuz goin’ out to de _c-country_ and I hadda go ’long!

MISS PAGE

[_Insistent._] And what else?

ANNIE

W-well, when I got outta de _hospital_, I stuck to my story and only came here Thursdays.

MISS PAGE

[_With a helpless gesture._] Oh, Annie, why can’t you behave yourself?

ANNIE

[_Vehemently._] I _do_, Miss Page, honest I do! [_Crosses to Lower Left to escape MISS PAGE’S searching eyes._] B-but I can’t help it if there’s a-always somebody s-snitchin’ on ya!

MISS PAGE

[_Reproachfully._] Snitching! But Annie....

ANNIE

[_Nervously, twisting and untwisting her belt._] I d-don’t care _what_ they say! I—I didn’t pick up with that feller on de s-street! He—h-he wuz in de room when I g-got in last night!

MISS PAGE

[_Coming towards her, slowly._] And _how_ did he get there?

ANNIE

[_Feebly._] Oh—er—one of de girls musta let’m have de key!

MISS PAGE

[_Sadly._] Those girls! [_ANNIE shrinks further away._] Why do you live with them? You promised me the last time, you wouldn’t have anything more to do with Mame and Lottie!

ANNIE

[_Haltingly._] But they’se so good to me, Mis’ Page! I gotta live some place ... it might as well be with dem....

MISS PAGE

... and get yourself constantly into trouble?

ANNIE

[_Protesting._] Oh, Mis’ Page! Ya don’t want me to live _here_, do ya? [_Tremulously._] Gee, if it wuzn’t fer Ma I’d n-never come h-here! B-but Ma ... [_Her whole heart is in her voice._] ... she’s m-my M-ma ... [_Sobs._] ... s-she’s m-my M-m-ma!

MISS PAGE

[_Walks up and puts her arm around ANNIE’S shaking shoulders, holds her tight._] What’s going to become of you, Annie?

ANNIE

[_With hopeless shrug._] I dunno—and I don’t care! [_Moves away._] Just so long ... [_Nods to door Right._] ... as _he_ don’t ketch on!

MISS PAGE

[_Walks thoughtfully back a few steps towards door Right before turning._] Do you know why I came here to-night?

ANNIE

N-no.

MISS PAGE

I came here to find out the kind of home you have, so when I see the Judge ... [_ANNIE looks up startled._] ... to-morrow morning, I can tell him a little more about you!

ANNIE

[_Whispers._] A-about me?

MISS PAGE

Yes! [_Earnestly._] I’ve always been on the square with you, haven’t I, Annie? [_ANNIE nods._] And I want to help you all I can. _But_ you’ve been picked up four times during the last five months for loitering on the streets late at night! [_As ANNIE starts to appeal._] And _last_ night the _police_ raided the flat you were in!

ANNIE

[_Protesting._] But honest, Mis’ Page, I couldn’t help it! [_She looks about her like an hunted animal._] Ya see, I wuz ... wuz ... shhh!

[_The areaway door has opened and MRS. FLOYD appears on top
stair._]

MRS. FLOYD

[_Her beady eyes glisten in anticipation as she surveys ANNIE._] Hello, there! [_She stumps down the stairs._]

ANNIE

[_Instinctively on the defensive._] H-hello! [_Moves forward to head her off._] Ma’s helping’ Pa!

[_MISS PAGE crosses to sofa._]

MRS. FLOYD

[_Shaking off ANNIE’S restraining hand._] Oh, is she now! [_Pulls out EMIL’S chair._] Then I’ll wait fer her!

ANNIE

[_In desperate fear, jerks her around._] I toldja, she’s helpin’ Pa!

MRS. FLOYD

[_Flinging her against the cupboard._] Lissen, girlie, I gotcha de _first_ time!

[_MA FISHYER enters hastily from door Right._]

ANNIE

[_Almost hysterical in her fright._] Then beat it!

MA FISHYER

Ach, Mis’ Floyd, I heard yuh close yur door! Ve—ve heff company now ... maybe it be better ve go on to _yer_ flet....

MRS. FLOYD

Oh, this suits me, I ain’t pertic’ler! [_Seats herself in EMIL’S chair. Watching ANNIE signalling to MISS PAGE._] Who’s her friend?

MA FISHYER

[_Nervously._] Oxcuse me, but dis iss Annie’s Mis’ Page....

MRS. FLOYD

[_In response to MISS PAGE’S nod._] Pleased to meetcha! [_ANNIE crosses over to her MOTHER and whispers distractedly in her ear._]

MA FISHYER

Ve ain’t finished our supper yet! Maybe it’s better I come ofer and see yuh efter vile.

MRS. FLOYD

[_Not to be budged._] After while nuthin’! What did she say?

[_PA FISHYER enters unnoticed, wiping his hands._]

MA FISHYER

[_Piteously._] Pleese, Mis’ Floyd, eny minute now ... Pa ... Pa comes....

MRS. FLOYD

[_She thumbs towards ANNIE._] Did she say she wuz arrested?

FISHYER

Arrested! [_All look up in surprise. ANNIE cowers against the sink._] Who vas arrested?

MA FISHYER

[_At bay._] Ach, Mis’ Floyd hass just been talkin’—er—no vitch vay to me, h’aintcha, Mis’ Floyd?

FISHYER

Na—all right! [_He thunders at his wife._] But who vas arrested?

MRS. FLOYD

Who? [_Spitefully._] Well, Mr. Fishyer, a’course, it ain’t none of _my_ business, _but_ seeing what good neighbors we been and how _pertic’ler_ ya wuz to let me know that my son is a good-fer-nuthin’ loafer—I take great pleasure ta letcha know that one of _yer_ swell family is, wuz or will be arrested!

FISHYER

Vat? My family vat I bring up so strict?

MRS. FLOYD

[_She cackles derisively._] Uhuh! Ain’t it the limit?

FISHYER

[_Purpling with rage._] Who iss it?

MA FISHYER

[_Clinging to his arm._] Pa, pleese, ... P-Pa....

FISHYER

[_He shakes her off._] Na, are yuh deef? Na—_who_ I say?

MRS. FLOYD

[_Vindictively._] Who else but yer Annie!

[_ANNIE becomes deathly pale and shrinks against the wall Lower
Right._]

FISHYER

[_Turns furiously._] _Vat?_

MA FISHYER

[_She thrusts herself between FISHYER and ANNIE. Frantically._] Mis’ Page, Mis’ Page....

ANNIE

[_Clasping her mother convulsively, whimpers._] M-ma!

MISS PAGE

[_Quickly._] There—there must be some mistake! Where did you hear this, Mrs. Floyd?

MRS. FLOYD

Well ... a friend of mine went ta the Domestic Relation Court ta-day ta see about that husband of her’n—a perfect brute....

FISHYER

[_Impatiently._] Yeh, nefer mind about de brute!

MRS. FLOYD

And so I went along, because I been readin’ a dandy story about the Morals Court—yeh know ... [_She winks to MISS PAGE as she thumbs in ANNIE’S direction._] ... where them girls are taken ... anda so I sez ta myself ... sez I ...

FISHYER

[_Exasperated._] Vat?

MRS. FLOYD

That’s what I’m comin’ ta. So I sez ta myself, I’ll visit the Morals Court and see if them fellas from the papers tells the truth! [_FISHYER almost beside himself with frenzy._] But I stayed so long with my friend that the Judge wuz jest closin’ fer the day. _But_ who should I see there—but Annie!

FISHYER

[_Choking with wrath, turns wildly with up-lifted fist towards ANNIE._] Annie, come here!

MA FISHYER

[_Holding him back._] Don’t, Pa, pleese, don’t....

FISHYER

[_Trying to loosen her hold._] Keep quiet!

MISS PAGE

[_Resolutely._] That isn’t anything at all, Mr. Fishyer!

FISHYER

[_Bellows._] Vat _more_ yuh vant, efter bringin’ up a girl so strict?

MA FISHYER

[_Screams in terror as she feels herself overpowered._] Pa, pleese, P-pa....

FISHYER

Vill yuh keep qviet! [_Furiously to ANNIE, whimpering in terror._] First, I giff yuh someding to remember me by ... and den out off de _house_ yuh go!

MA FISHYER

[_Fighting to hold him back._] N-no, Pa, don’t....

FISHYER

[_Throwing her on the floor in front of table._] Get out off my vay, Ma! [_He shouts enraged._] Annie, come here! Yuh hear me! [_He grasps her left arm and jerks her towards him._]

ANNIE

[_Writhing in pain as he tightens his hold._] No—no! It’s—it’s a lie—a lie....

MRS. FLOYD

[_Rising in surprise._] Huh!

ANNIE

Yes, it is! [_She glares about her with the desperation of a trapped animal._] Yes, it is! I—I wuz ... there ... [_She points sobbingly to MISS PAGE._] ... with her!

FISHYER

Mit her? Mis’ Page?

ANNIE

[_Trying to loosen his grip._] Yes, I wuz helpin’ her carry her books ... [_She nods to MRS. FLOYD._] ... when she musta seen me!

[_MISS PAGE is startled at ANNIE’S lie._]

FISHYER

[_Tightening his cruel hold until she falls sobbing on her knees._] Vat yuh mean?

ANNIE

[_The words fairly tumble from her twitching lips._] Mis’ Page works fer de Judge—h-helps him.... And I often go to de court with h-her ... don’t I, Mis’ Page?

[_An agonizing second. MISS PAGE gives one glance at MA
FISHYER’S prostrated form on the floor and then rises to the
occasion._]

MISS PAGE

Yes! She’s _always_ there with me!

ANNIE

[_Sobs._] And—I been there lots of times, ain’t I, Mis’ Page?

[_Quickly before MISS PAGE can reply, MA FISHYER thrusts
herself between PA FISHYER and ANNIE._]

MA FISHYER

[_Tries to separate his iron grip from ANNIE’S arm._] Yuh see, Pa? yuh see?

FISHYER

[_To MISS PAGE, slightly mollified._] Ef she’s vid _yuh_, Mis’ ... dot’s all right, den! [_Flings ANNIE and MA FISHYER from him. While MA FISHYER tenderly kisses ANNIE’S arm he turns wrathfully towards MRS. FLOYD._] _BUT!_ [_MRS. FLOYD, who seeing his intentions, scurries up the stairs._] ... Good-bye, Mis’ Floyd! [_Runs up the stairs and shouts after her._] And next time yuh _look_ first before yuh jump! [_Crashes door after her._]

[_MA FISHYER is holding ANNIE tightly in her arms. Both are
weeping._]

FISHYER

So! [_Comes down stairs._] Dis should be a lesson for yuh, Annie! Yuh see now vat maybe heppens ef I don’t bring yuh up so strict! [_Shakes fist after MRS. FLOYD._] Dat cat vat just left might be in de right!

[_EMIL re-enters and moves wonderingly towards sink._]

MA FISHYER

[_Her breath sobbing in her throat._] Y-yess, Pa, y-yess....

FISHYER

[_Sternly flinging her away from ANNIE so that she falls into EMIL’S arms._] Let her alone, Ma! Vat kind off bringin’ up is dot? [_To MISS PAGE._] I tell yuh, Mis’, my fadder alvays said: “Order rules de vorld, but _man_ iss ruled vid de _vhip!_” And he vas right! [_Glares at ANNIE._] He ruled us vid a hand off iron! [_To MISS PAGE._] And look on me! I haf de greatest respect for my fadder! [_Gives them all a menacing look._] And I do de same! Alvays am I strict and ven dey grow old, dey’ll tank me for it!

[_He sits down at the table and motions EMIL to his seat again.
EMIL sidles into his chair guardedly. PA FISHYER begins his
meal, dipping his chunk of rye bread in the gravy. MISS PAGE
notices the looks of hatred darted at PA FISHYER by both ANNIE
and EMIL._]

MISS PAGE

[_Curiously._] And—did you love your father, Mr. Fishyer?

FISHYER

[_Taken aback._] Lofe? [_He stops with his coffee cup half-way._] Shure, I lofe him ven I respect him! [_Grimly._] Huh! [_Cracking an imaginary whip._] He’d made us dance to de muzik off de stick ef ve didn’t lofe him! Shure.... [_He pauses._] ... Shure, de children alvays lofe ... [_Fixes his eye on EMIL who immediately stops drinking his coffee._] ... de fadder!

[_EMIL draws back in consternation._]

MISS PAGE

[_Seeing the futility of the situation, turns thoughtfully to the sofa for her gloves and purse._] Well, it’s late and I must be going! [_She pauses a second in thought, then comes to a decision._] By the way, Mr. Fishyer, would you mind if I take Annie with me?

FISHYER

Right avay? I vanted to giff her a good talkin’ to, yet!

MISS PAGE

[_Pulling on her gloves._] I’m so sorry, but I’m leaving for the country early in the morning....

MA FISHYER

[_Staring fixedly at MISS PAGE._] De c-country?

MISS PAGE

[_Smiling at her, very gently._] The _real_ country, Mrs. Fishyer!

FISHYER

[_He grunts, between mouthfuls._] Shure, mit yuh it’s all right! [_Over his shoulder to ANNIE._] Put on yur tings, Annie!

[_For a moment, while his back is turned, MA FISHYER crushes
ANNIE sobbingly to her breast, kissing her again and again._]

ANNIE

[_Covering her MOTHER’S tear-stained cheeks with kisses, she whispers brokenly._] Don’t Ma, don’t, I’ll be good! I’ll be good!

MA FISHYER

[_Sobs, clinging to her._] Annie ... [_MISS PAGE, separating the two, holds MA FISHYER tight in her arms._] Little Annie!

MISS PAGE

[_While ANNIE gets her coat and hat from the coat rack._] Good-bye, Mrs. Fishyer, you needn’t worry! [_Looks sternly at PA FISHYER, unconcernedly, eating his meal._] I’ll take good care of your Annie!

[_MA FISHYER, unable to utter a word, leans over and kisses
MISS PAGE’S hand. MISS PAGE turns and mounts the stairs leading
to the areaway. As she opens the door, FISHYER looks up._]

FISHYER

Good-bye, Mis’, and ef she don’t behave herself ... [_ANNIE clings to her. He balls his fist._] ... yuh just let me know!

MISS PAGE

[_Her arm protectingly around ANNIE, she eyes him, half sadly, half ironically._] Yes, indeed! You’d be a _great_ help!

FISHYER

[_Nods his self-satisfaction and takes his second cupful of coffee._] Shure!

[_The curtain descends as MA FISHYER leans heavily against
EMIL’S chair, her eyes following the two disappearing through
the doorway._]

CURTAIN

Florence Thompson as Mrs. Floyd

Harriet Allyn as Ma Fishyer

Margaret Moore as Miss Page

Curt Benisch as Pa Fishyer

Charles J. White as Emil

Gladys Pfeffer as Annie]

‘THE UNDERCURRENT’]

THE TURNING POINT

GLADYS PFEFFER and CURT BENISCH in “The Undercurrent,” at the Hillstreet.—(Drawing by Ellen Danar.)]

THE PRESS

THE PRESS

HOW YOUR MONEY HELPS

The varied phases of an organization like the Albany Community Chest are services that are difficult to illustrate in any vivid way to the public that supports the philanthropy, and much of its praise must needs go unsung, if not unhonored.

Twenty-five per cent of the funds collected for the Chest are devoted to extending and supporting social service that acts as a sort of human adjuster in homes where things greatly need adjusting. The Chest can claim a friend; one that is not directly propaganda for its work, in the playlet, “The Undercurrent,” that is being acted at Proctor’s Grand. It is the work of Miss Fay Ehlert of Chicago and reveals the value of a woman social service worker in entering a squalid home where the father’s domineering and brutalizing mind is driving his young daughter from the home to possible disaster away from it. In fact, she is accused of theft, and it is the understanding and sympathy of this social worker that saves the girl. She tells a brave falsehood as to the girl’s previous whereabouts and saves her thus from the wrath of the father. Then she takes the girl with her to make the untruth come true in a finer and more wholesome atmosphere for the girl.

Probably Miss Ehlert has seen some such incident in service work in Chicago. One could find it in any city and it is this unofficial court of domestic relations that the Albany Community Chest partially supports in its work of helping to make better citizens or to save normally good citizens from demoralizing trends.

“The Undercurrent” is a forceful and convincing illustration of the good your money does when it is given to the Community Chest.

—Editorial in _The Knickerbocker Press_,
Albany, N. Y., April 9, 1929.

THE THEATRE AND SOCIAL SERVICE

In every city and town nowadays there is a social service organization, or a group of unselfish citizens—usually women—devoted to the betterment of home life among the poor, the ignorant and even lawless families. It is work that requires infinite tact, patience and sympathy with the sorrows and trials of unfortunate and unhappy families. In the great cities the social service workers are often endowed organizations. In small communities they depend upon the occasional and voluntary donations of prosperous neighbors. The very confidential nature of the quiet ministrations of the social service worker prevents the exploitation of their achievements or the publication of their daily and nightly tasks in detail.

Many generous givers to this priceless cause may not realize how their money is applied, how it helps not only the poor but also misguided families in which cruelty, domestic misunderstanding and deceit are making for the disruption of what should be happy homes.

There is now touring the R-K-O vaudeville circuit, a one-act play called “The Undercurrent,” which not only throws the searchlight of truth upon the motives and deeds of the social service worker, but incidentally illustrates how the theatre may exert a helpful influence towards the extension and understanding of non-sectarian social service.

This little play, written by Mrs. Fay Ehlert, wife of the Chilean Consul in Chicago, and herself a social service worker, has been one of the popular successes of major vaudeville in every theatre where it has been presented. It is neither propaganda nor preachment, standing bravely upon its own feet as a tense, tender and convincing record of unhappy family life into which a wise and womanly social service friend is able to bring peace and a large measure of happiness. The phenomenal popular success of this dramatic sketch should impress practical theatrical producers that they can exercise a powerful (and profitable) hand in helping to save normally good citizens from demoralizing trends by presenting true and compelling plays or sketches which demonstrate with dramatic fidelity such incidents of life and service as those depicted in “The Undercurrent.”

Such a play, absorbing and timely in interest, not only designates the special humanitarian deeds of such workers in social service, but also informs the pleased audience how the money spent by the public in such channels helps the unhappy without betraying confidences and without boastful stories in the newspapers.

—Floyd B. Scott in _The Magazine of Vaudeville_,
April 21, 1929.

A THEATRICAL VENTURE

For some years American theatrical managers have defended their choice of programs by pleading that they must give the public what it wants. Their critics have replied that the managers have signally failed to understand the public taste. They have backed up this assertion by pointing to the astonishing growth in recent years of the Little Theatre movement.

The amateur theatre is to-day not only holding its own against the professional stage—it has actually begun to invade it. For evidence of this one has only to cite the one-act play, “The Undercurrent,” by Fay Ehlert, which heads the bill this week at the Orpheum Theatre.

“The Undercurrent,” it may be recalled, was this year’s prize-winning play of the Chicago Little Theatre tournament....

Arrangements were made under which the original cast should tour with “The Undercurrent” during the summer recess. No attempt was to be made to professionalize the production. All its fine amateur quality with its refreshing freedom from conventionalized forms was to be retained....

What the venture may mean to the cause of good drama can be easily foreseen. It will enlarge the scope and value of the Little Theatre movement everywhere, and encourage the writing and presenting of more and better dramatic sketches. It will cultivate and improve the public taste and re-create public interest in the drama. And it will bring some fine new blood into the acting profession.

—Editorial in _The Winnipeg Tribune_,
Friday, August 24, 1928.

R-K-O WATCHING LITTLE THEATRE MOVEMENT

President Brown of Radio-Keith-Orpheum Sends Scouts to Review and Secure Best Playlet

Hiram S. Brown, president of the Radio-Keith-Orpheum Vaudeville Circuit, in order to encourage and acquire good short plays, dramatic sketches and worthy one-act playlets, has advised local representatives to review the tournaments and independent reproductions of the Little Theatre movements, throughout the country. The immediate and continued success of “The Undercurrent,” the prize-winner of the Chicago Little Theatre tournament—now touring the R-K-O Circuit, has been so marked that Mr. Brown and George A. Godfrey, chief of the booking department, have determined to continue a plan of “prospecting” and developing other products of the Little Theatre.

“The Undercurrent,” after months of brilliant success, starting in the R-K-O houses of Chicago, came East to further emphasize the fact that vaudeville patrons are eager for this sort of innovation in their favorite form of amusement. It played Keith’s Palace a short while ago, and at the B. F. Keith Memorial Theatre, Boston, last week, this short play became an immediate success with the Boston vaudeville public.

A leading editorial (not a dramatic review) in the Boston Post says of it:

“It is neither sensational nor flamboyant, but a burning human drama, twenty minutes of thrilling suspense with a touching climax. There is real hope for the legitimate drama when a vaudeville house makes a play like this one a feature on the bill.”

The original cast of “The Undercurrent” was made up of talented amateurs, but its merits were obvious and proved to be exactly to the tastes and preferences of every Vaudeville audience which has witnessed it.

Radio-Keith-Orpheum now is “hot on the trail” of more dramatic one-acters of like quality.

—_The Magazine of Vaudeville_, Palace Theatre,
New York City, March 31, 1929.

IN A VAUDEVILLE PROGRAM

One doesn’t expect to find a sermon in a vaudeville program. Yet one of the most powerful sermons ever presented in Cheyenne was a feature of the program of the Lincoln theater Thursday evening. It was Fay Ehlert’s playlette, “The Undercurrent.” Too bad that every parent in Cheyenne could not have seen that tabloid drama. To have done so would have been wholesome for some, perhaps for many. The observation may be validly applied in virtually every community of more than a few families.

“The Undercurrent” is repulsive. It is brutal. It rasps the sensibilities. It emphasizes excrutiatingly the significance of the phrase “the truth hurts.” The hurting, however, the repulsiveness, the brutality, are wholesome in effect.

The little drama, the whole course of which is run in less time than is required for presentation of one act of an ordinary play, deals with a self-centered parent’s inability to understand that conceptions of parental responsibility and authority which were forced on him in his youth are incongruous and impossible in another environment and another period. The effects of his blind wrath, which he regards as righteous, make the observer shudder.