ANDREW GIBSON, a piano factory owner
NORA GORODNA, a piano tester and socialist labor organizer
MR. MIFFLIN, a socialist journalist
CARTER, an elderly factory worker
FRANKEL, a young Jewish factory worker
SHOMBERG, a factory worker
SIMPSON, an elderly factory worker
SALVATORE, an Italian factory worker
RILEY, a truck driver
ELLA, Mr. Gibson's housemaid
MRS. SIMPSON, wife of Simpson
MRS. COMMISKEY, wife of a worker (offstage voice)
POLENSKI, a worker
FIRST WOP and SECOND WOP, workers
ANDREW GIBSON'S _office in his piano factory where he manufactures "The Gibson Upright." A very plain interior; pleasant to the eye, yet distinctly an office in a factory, and without luxuries; altogether utilitarian.
Against the wall on our right is a roll-top desk, open, very neat, and in the centre of the writing pad a fresh rose stands in a glass of water. Near by is a long, plain table and upon it a very neat arrangement of correspondence and a couple of ledgers.
Against the walls are a dozen plain cane-seated chairs. Near the centre of the room is a sample of the Gibson upright piano in light wood. There is a large safe, showing the word "Gibson," and there are filing cases. In the rear wall there is a door with the upper half of opaque glass, which shows "Mr. Gibson" in reverse; and near this door is a water filter upon a stand. In the wall upon our left is a plain wooden door. The rear door opens into the factory; the other into a hall that leads to the street.
Upon the walls are several posters, one showing "The Gibson Upright"—a happy family, including children and a grandparent, exclaiming with joy at sight of this instrument. Another shows a concert singer singing widely beside "The Gibson Upright," with an accompanist seated. Another shows a semi-colossal millionaire, and a workingman of similar size in paper cap and apron, shaking hands across "The Gibson Upright," and, printed: "$188.00—The Price for the Millionaire, the Same for Plain John Smith—$188.00." This poster and the others all show the slogan: "How Cheap, BUT How Good!"
Nothing is new in this room, but everything is clean and accurately in order. The arrangement is symmetrical.
As the curtain rises_ NORA GORODNA is seen at work on the sample "Gibson Upright." The front is not removed; but through the top of the piano she is adjusting something with a small wrench. NORA is a fine-looking young woman, not over twenty-six; she wears a plain smock over a dark dress. As she is a piano tester in the factory she is dressed neither so roughly as a working woman nor perhaps so fashionably as a stenographer. She is serious and somewhat preoccupied. From somewhere come the sounds of several pianos being tuned. After a moment NORA _goes thoughtfully to the desk and looks at the rose in the glass; then lifts the glass as if to inhale the odour of the rose, but abruptly alters her decision and sets the glass down without doing so. She returns quickly and decisively to her work at the piano, as if she had made a determination.
A bell at the door on our left rings._ NORA goes to the door and opens it.
NORA: Good morning, Mr. Mifflin.
MIFFLIN [entering]: Good morning, Miss Gorodna.
[MIFFLIN is a beaming man of forty, with gold-rimmed eyeglasses and a somewhat grizzled beard which has been, a week or so ago, a neatly trimmed Vandyke. He wears a "cutaway suit," not much pressed, not new; a derby hat, a standing collar, and a "four-in-hand" dark tie; hard, round cuffs, not link cuffs. He carries a folded umbrella, not a fashionable one; wears no gloves; and has two or three old magazines and a newspaper under his arm.]
MIFFLIN: I believe I'm here just to the hour, Miss Gorodna.
NORA: Mr. Gibson has been very nice about it. He told me he would give you the interview for your article. He's in the factory—trying to settle some things he can't settle. I'll let him know you're here.
[She goes out by the door into the factory. MIFFLIN, smiling with benevolent anticipation, places his umbrella and hat on a chair, then takes his fountain pen and a pencil from his pocket, smilingly decides to use the pencil, sharpens it without going to a wastebasket over by the desk; then beamingly looks about the room. He is about to strike a chord on the piano, seems alarmed by the idea, moves away from it, dusts the lapel of his coat, adjusts his collar, studies the posters, shakes his head over them as if they were not to his taste, goes to the desk, and after studying it smiles at the rose and gives it a kittenish peck with his forefinger. NORA comes back and MIFFLIN turns to her with his benevolent smile.]
NORA [going back to her work at the piano]: He'll be right here.
[GIBSON appears in the open doorway, speaking with crisp
determination to someone not seen.]
GIBSON: That's my last word on it; that's in accordance with the agreement you signed two weeks ago.
A HARSH VOICE: We don't care nothin' about no agreement!
GIBSON: That's all!
[He comes in. He is a man of thirty-something; well but not clubbishly dressed; an intelligent, thoughtful face; a man of affairs. Just now he is exercising some self-control over irritations which have become habitual, but he is not uncordial, merely quiet, during his greeting of MIFFLIN.]
NORA: This is Mr. Mifflin, Mr. Gibson.
GIBSON: How do you do, Mr. Mifflin.
MIFFLIN [heartily, as they shake hands]: I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Gibson! I hope you don't mind my not writing to you myself for this interview.
GIBSON: Not at all!
MIFFLIN [taking a chair]: I heard Miss Gorodna speak at a meeting two nights ago—
GIBSON: Yes?
MIFFLIN: And learning that she was one of your employees I asked her to speak to you about it for me.
GIBSON: I see.
MIFFLIN: Now, in the first place, Mr. Gibson—
[There is a telephone on GIBSON'S desk; its bell rings.]
GIBSON: Excuse me a moment!
[At the telephone]: Hello!… Yes—Gibson…. Oh, hello, McCombs!… Yes. I want you to buy it…. I want you to buy all of that grade wire you can lay your hands on. Get it now and go quick. All you can get; I don't care if it's a three years' supply. There'll be a shortage within a month…. No; I don't want any more of the celluloid mixture…. No, I don't want it. They can't make a figure good enough. I've got my own formula for keys and we're going to make our own mixture…. I'm going to have my own plant for it right here. I can make it just under fifty per cent, better than I can buy it…. Wait a minute! I want you to get hold of that lot of felt over in Newark; the syndicate's after it, but I want you to beat them to it. Don't go to Johnson. You go to Hendricks—he's Johnson's brother-in-law. You tell him as my purchasing agent you've come to finish the talk I had with him the other night. You'll find that does it…. All right. Wait! Call me up to-morrow afternoon; I'm on the track of a stock of that brass we've been using. We may get three-eighths of a cent off on it. I'll know by that time. All right!… All right! [Then he hangs up the receiver and turns to MIFFLIN.] Where do you propose to publish this interview, Mr. Mifflin?
MIFFLIN [cheerily]: Oh, I shall select one of the popular magazines in sympathy with my point of view in these matters. You probably know my articles. Numbers of them have been translated. One called "Coöperation and Brotherhood" has been printed in thirteen languages and dialects, including the Scandinavian. But I expect this to be my star article.
GIBSON: Why?
MIFFLIN: Because your factory here is so often called a model factory. "The model factory!" [He repeats the phrase with unction.]
GIBSON [wearily]: Yes, model because it has the most labour trouble!
MIFFLIN [enthusiastically]: That is the real reason why it will be my star article. As you may know from my other articles this problem is where I am in my element.
GIBSON: Yes; I understood so from Miss Gorodna.
[Giving him an inimical glance, NORA closes the top of piano, and moves to go. GIBSON checks her with a slight gesture.]
GIBSON: Would you mind staying, Miss Gorodna? Miss Gorodna knows more about one side of this factory than I do, I'm afraid, Mr. Mifflin. We may need her for reference, especially as she seems to be the ringleader of the insurgents.
MIFFLIN [with jovial reproach]: Now, now! Before we come to that, Mr. Gibson, suppose we get at the origin of this interesting product. [He waves to the sample piano.] Let's see! I understand it was never your own creation, Mr. Gibson; that you inherited this factory from your father.
GIBSON: Oh, no, I didn't.
NORA [challenging]: What! [She checks herself.] I beg your pardon!
GIBSON: The piano factory I inherited from my father was about one third this size.
MIFFLIN [genially; always genial]: Nevertheless, you inherited it. We know that everything grows with the times, naturally. Let us simply state that it was a capitalistic family inheritance.
NORA [under her breath but emphatically]: Yes!
MIFFLIN: Up to the time of your inheriting it, you, I suppose, had led the usual life of pleasure of the wealthy young man?
GIBSON: I'd been through school and college and through every department of the factory. That wasn't hard; it was a pretty run-down factory, Mr. Mifflin.
MIFFLIN: And then at your father's death the lives and fortunes, souls and bodies of all these workmen passed into your hands?
GIBSON: Not quite that; there were only forty-one workmen, and nineteen of them didn't stay when father died. They got other jobs before I could stop them.
MIFFLIN: And how many men have you now?
GIBSON: I believe there are one hundred and seventy-five on the pay roll now.
MIFFLIN: One hundred and seventy-five [with gusto] labourers!
GIBSON: Some of them are; some of them are orators.
MIFFLIN [jovially]: Ah, I'm afraid that's hard on Miss Gorodna.
GIBSON [quietly]: She's both.
MIFFLIN: I understand you are not fighting the labour unions?
GIBSON: No. The workmen themselves declined to unionize the factory.
MIFFLIN: Mr. Gibson, when your father began manufacturing "The Gibson
Upright"—
GIBSON: He didn't. He made a very fine piano—and only a few of them. It was "The Gibson Upright" that saved the factory. You see, with this model we began to get on a quantity-production basis. That's why the business has grown and is growing.