A Phoenix Rising and Other Gay Plays

Copyright © 2009 by Hiram Ed Taylor.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

AUTHORS NOTES

ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

SCENE TWO

SCENE THREE

SCENE FOUR

SCENE FIVE

SCENE SIX

SCENE SEVEN

SCENE EIGHT

SCENE NINE

ACT TWO

SCENE ONE

SCENE TWO

SCENE THREE

SCENE FOUR

MEMBERS

ACT ONE

MAN OF MY DREAMS

SCENE ONE

SCENE TWO

SCENE THREE

SCENE FOUR

SCENE FIVE

SCENE SIX

SCENE SEVEN

SCENE EIGHT

SCENE NINE

AUTHORS NOTES

In 2000 I decided to self publish as many of my 37 plays as I could in a series of volumes. I published LOUISIANA plays first because they were all new and never produced and I wanted to share them with my theatre friends around the world I am happy to write that since publication all four have been given excellent productions.

After 20 years in New York City and 5 in Hollywood I abandoned my career and moved back home to New Orleans to take care of my aging parents. I never stopped writing. I was working on Mardi Gras floats and making a living by being a tour guide in the French Quarter. I began the huge task of typing all my old scripts into the computer.

Then, in Aug 2005, Hurricane Katrina destroyed New Orleans and wrecked my life and my parents lives. They both died shortly after we were allowed back into New Orleans, neither could ever accept that a hurricane had destroyed their house and everything they had saved during 54 years of marriage together. They had to live in a nursing home in Baton Rouge while I struggled to get my own home livable again. Only my mother lived long enough to move in with me. Dad never made it back to New Orleans. Mother survived only nine months. Living here now is not easy

Out of this destruction, I wrote and published my first novel SECRET SOCIETY OF SAINT MYSTIC about Katrina and Mardi Gras. I had stopped writing plays in 1999, PROPHECY being my last one. But, I had hoped to publish some of the more successful plays from my writing career as soon as I could get my wits back again. Since Katrina had taken away both my tour guide job and my Mardi Gras float painting I was desperate. However, I discovered Katrina had also taken every copy of all 37 of my produced plays.

I put out the call over the internet to friends, actors, directors, producers, production crew members, anyone from past productions and managed over a year and a half to round up 22 of the scripts. That left 15 no where to be found. Most of the 15 were my gay plays, produced by alternative theatres and sad to say but many of those people are dead now.

Meanwhile, another hurricane came roaring into New Orleans last Sept named Gustav and again the entire city was forced to evacuate. This time I flew to West Hollywood, California and stayed with a friend and visited many other friends. One was an actor who just happened to have 2 of my lost plays in his closet. One of them MAN OF MY DREAMS is in this publication.

A friend from Amsterdam who was in the original Syracuse production of MEMBERS in 1971 wrote to me on FACEBOOK that he might have a copy of it. Then, a local friend who read his message reminded me that the play had won the Bultman Playwriting Award at Tulane/Loyola Drama Department here in New Orleans back in 1971. They might still have a copy in their archives. They did not.

Then I sold the ruins of my parents house and had to clean out the attic and closets of junk left behind A miracle happened, in a closet, behind old clothes was a large box. It had been soaked and it’s contents had bad water damage but I suddenly realized they were copies of old plays I had sent my mother. She had kept all my plays, even my first play DISHPAN HANDS which was produced when I was in eighth grade in Citronelle Alabama.

After reading through them I discovered she was missing only one play, A PHOENIX RISING which was never produced. It was presented in a reading at the Dramatist Guild in Manhattan in 1987. Because of it’s subject matter I had decided not to send mother a copy. A decision I regret. I felt bad about the play but decided it was no great loss and called Xlibris and started the process of publication which meant I had to talk the plays into my Dragon Speaking program since HIV has caused my fingers to swell so that I can no longer type.

Then, last week while going through boxes of my own junk in storage since Katrina I found an old floppy disc with one word PLAYS written on it. It was so old that it wouldn’t even fit into my current computer, again back online asking friends if anyone had a way to open the file and a friend again on FACEBOOK wrote that BEST BUY had a device that could be used to retrieve the old disc information. Out I went to the store and presto what came up on the computer is the only surviving copy in the world of the last lost play A PHOENIX RISING.

I rushed home and read it and cried for 2 days. How things have changed. I could never write this play today. I had forgotten what it was like in Manhattan and why I had to leave that town. So much death. The play captures the era and what I was going through then 20 years ago and I felt it deserved to be printed since it had lived up to it’s title literally proving itself to be A PHOENIX RISING from the ashes of my destroyed life and forgotten theatrical career.

CAST:

Carl McKay a Broadway director/choreographer in his late 40’s

Sandy Balboa . . . his next door neighbor/best friend

Hal Feldman A young dancer and friend

Teresa Williams a young writer

SETTING

A large loft apartment in Manhattan

TIME

The late 1980’s

ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

(A LARGE LOFT APARTMENT IN MANHATTAN.)

(IT HAS A SOFA AND CHAIRS, BUT MOSTLY IT IS OPEN SPACE, SO THAT IT CAN BE USED FOR A WORK SPACE TOO. THE FRONT WALL, OUT TOWARDS THE AUDIENCE IS MIRRORED AND CARL USES THIS AS HIS SPACE TO WORK OUT HIS CHOREOGRAPHY AT HOME WHEN HE IS DOING A SHOW.)

(ON THE OTHER WALLS THERE ARE THEATRE POSTERS OF HIS FAMOUS SHOWS. THE WHOLE APARTMENT IS VERY THEATRICAL IN EFFECT WITH TRACK LIGHTING AND A RACK WITH HATS AND VARIOUS COSTUME PIECES, LIKE A FEATHER BOA, A SHAWL, THAT WILL BE USED DURING THE SHOW WHICH CARL IS PRESENTLY WORKING ON.)

(AS THE LIGHTS COME UP, THE APARTMENT IS EMPTY. THE DOOR OPENS AND CARL ENTERS.)

(HE IS IN HIS 40’S, EXTREMELY HANDSOME AND WELL BUILT, DEFINATELY A DANCER, HE IS A BROADWAY CHOREOGRAPHER AND DIRECTOR OF SPLASHY MUSICALS. HE IS WEARING A THREE PIECE SUIT. HE LOOKS WEARY, WORN, TIRED, DEPRESSED AS IF THE WHOLE WORLD WAS PRESSING DOWN ON HIS SHOULDERS. HE COMES INTO THE ROOM, CLOSES THE DOOR AND" WALKS TOWARDS THE SOFA, HE GETS ABOUT HALF WAY AND HE SEES HIMSELF IN THE MIRROR AND BREAKS DOWN IN TEARS. HE SOBS, UNCONTROLABLY. HIS KNEES GIVE AND HE SINKS TO THE FLOOR AND COVERS HIS FACE.

THE DOOR OPENS AND SANDY BALBOA, A LARGE MANLY LOOKING WOMAN WITH A CREW CUT AND RATHER ‘BUTCH’ MANNER RUSHES INTO THE ROOM. SHE IS DRESSED IN A DRESSY SKIRT AND BLOUSE BUT SHE LOOKS AND FEELS OUT OF PLACE IN THE OUTFIT.)

(SHE RUSHES OVER TO CARL AND PUTS HER ARMS AROUND HIM.)

CARL

Danny’s mother was so cruel.

SANDY

I know,

CARL

She didn’t even want me in the church.

SANDY

Stupid, bitch, where was she during all the days at the hospital?

CARL.

He didn’t want her there.

SANDY

That’s because he wanted you there and he knew how she was.

CARL

She always hated me

SANDY

No, no, now you can’t take it personnel, she hates all fags, dear. She hated the fact that her son was gay, it didn’t matter who he was in love with, she couldn’t understand that love.

CARL

I loved Danny so much Sandy.

SANDY

I know you did.

(She runs her fingers through his hair.)

He loved you too.

CARL.

I wish it had been me who died. Not him.

SANDY

Don’ t say that

CARL

I can’t live without him. He was stronger than me, he would have gotten over me, met someone else continued with his life but I can’t, I just can’t.

SANDY

Yes, you will Carl. You’re a very strong man, but you’ll get over it. It will take time.

CARL

No. Never.

SANDY

Life goes on, Carl. You’ll have to go on.

CARL

It will never be the same.again. Nothing will ever be the same

SANDY

No, that’s true. It won’t be the same. The whole world will never be the same again.

CARL

Oh Sandy, I had everything in the world that I ever wanted. It was all so wonderful, why did this ever have to happen?

(He sobs again.)

SANDY

I don’t have an answer for you.

(She forces him up)

Come on, sit over here on the sofa. My knees are giving out.

(She sits him down on the sofa)

Do you want some tea? Some nice lemon mist tea? It’ll calm our nerves.

CARL

I’m out of lemon mist.

SANDY

Well, spearmint then.

CARL.

I’m out of that too, I’m out of everything. I haven’t been to the grocery store in weeks. It’s been too much to deal with.

SANDY

You’ve been so strong through it all. I’m so proud of you.

CARL

I can get through anything. Isn’t that what Danny always used to say? A couple of the shows I did were enough to kill anyone but somehow I managed through them But this, don’t know how I’m going to get through this.

(She takes his hands in hers)

SANDY

I’m always right across the hall. Day or night I’ll come over.

CARL

You have your work.

SANDY

To hell with my work, friends are more important. Especially you, love, you are so important to me. You know that.

CARL

You’ve been a saint.

SANDY

Me a saint? Holy Mother of God, if the nuns back at St. Teresa could hear you say that they’d all spit blood. I turned out worst than they ever dreamed.

(THE DOORBELL RINGS)

Come in, it’s open.

(HAL FELDMAN ENTERS. HE IS IN HIS MID 20’S, A DANCER, HANDSOME, ATHLETIC AND FULL OF ENERGY. HE WEARS JEANS AND A SWEAT SHIRT.)

HAL

I came right over as soon as I had changed out of my suit, I thought I’d go get groceries for you. I saw that you were out of everything when I was here earlier.

SANDY

Hal, you’re a doll.

(Hal stops,

HAL

Are you ok?

(He comes over and hugs Carl.)

SANDY

It’s been a long day for him.

HAL

For us all. You didn’t let what that bitch said get to you? You know Danny’s mother was a crazy Southern Baptist, thank god she’s on her way back to Georgia by now.

CARL.

I wanted to comfort her. Let her know that her son was loved.

HAL

She couldn’t accept that.

CARL

It must have been hard on her. Finding out the way she did.

SANDY

I still can’t believe that someone could be as gay as long as Danny was and be 40 something years old and his mother still not know anything about it.

CARL.

Danny went to great lengths not to let any of his family know.

SANDY

What about you two? You lived together 10 years or more?

CARL

He always said we were roommates.

HAL

Roommates my ass, all the shows you did together. You both accepted the Tony Award together for your choreography, don’t you think she had some idea.

CARL

Of course she did, but mothers don’t want to know. She avoided the issue as long as she could.

SANDY

Well, to me that’s one of the saddest things about the whole mess.

CARL

Does your mom know you’re gay, Sandy?

SANDY

Are you kidding? She doesn’t know dykes exist. She’s too busy making the pasta and doing the laundry and waiting on her men. But it’s different for us women.

CARL

Somehow I knew you were going to say that.

SANDY

Hey, you’re already starting to give me a hard time. That’s the old Carl McKay I know. Thank god, I was beginning to worry.

CARL

I’m not giving you a hard time. God knows I wouldn’t want to live through telling my mother again. She wept for days and kept reading to me from the Bible. With an Italian Catholic mother like yours I can imagine what you’d go through.

SANDY

My mom loves you, Carl. She still has great hopes that one day you and I will get married.

CARL

The way things are going in show business right now, we may have to if I want to continue working.

HAL

My god, you wouldn’t ever think of doing that would you?

CARL

No, Hal, don’t worry.

HAL

Ever since Aids half the fags I know have run off and gotten married to protect themselves from the wrath of the world. Including a certain fashion designer who will remain nameless, who had the nerve to call me again last night and want to have sex while his wife is out of town.

CARL

Well, we knew he paid her off to marry him.

HAL

He says I’m who he really loves. Who he really loves to fuck that is.

SANDY

She must have signed a contract that she couldn’t get his money though. He’s such an ass he wouldn’t part with it if she divorces him.

CARL

I’m sure she’s well paid, and she doesn’t ever have to worry about him sleeping with her.

HAL

I can’t believe I let that son-of-a-bitch use me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up, but I’m so damn pissed off about the whole thing.

CARL

Please, it’s okay. Let’s talk about anything but Danny for a while.

HAL

It’s just, some of us are going through so much, and these rich sons of bitches with their million dollar industries in fashion and television and whatever; they turn around and forsake us and pretend they are straight just to save their damn careers. He didn’t even come to Danny’s funeral. And how many years has he known you two?

CARL

Too many.

HAL.

All the parties at Fire Island, hell he even did the costumes didn’t he for one of your shows.

CARL

Three of our shows.

SANDY

Son of a bitch!

HAL

And god knows he fucked me for two and a half years . . . and now he acts like he never knew any of us.

CARL

He’s scared.

HAL

We’re all scared. But some of us have integrity.

CARL

But you and I are scared about something different. We’re scared for our lives, he’s only scared for his money. I don’t give a shit for the money I’m glad I’ve got it and I’ve worked damn hard to get it. But it’s not the money that matters, it’s the work. My work and Danny’s work will live on, after our deaths . . . fashion fades in a season. He’s already a has been in his field.

HAL

He’s a joke. And the more the gay press roast him alive for this phony marriage and out his ass in the rags the better. I hope they ruin him. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of his jeans. I hate soulless jerks like him, to me they are the true villains of this world because they are dishonest liars and