KENNEDY’S ACOLYTES

A full-length play with six women – nine without doubling by JACK GILHOOLEY

On the the evening of November 22, 1963 in rural Western Ireland, three mid-teen-age girls grapple with the news that U.S. President John F. Kennedy has just been assassinated. Fifty years later the three reconnoiter at the same – but different – town square. Like the community, they have undergone radical changes some for the good and some otherwise.                                       The three characters should be played by SIX ACTRESSES (three ingénues and three older). After the opening scene, the three young actresses can play the US college radio interviewer, the young Irish waitress and the young tinker mother in Ireland. Or three other actresses can be used.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Deirdre   mid teens, then in her mid- sixties

Oona         “        “       “     “   “       “     “         ALL SPEAK WITH A BROGUE EXCEPT

Eileen        “        “       “     “    “     “     “         OONA IN SCENE III AND ARIEL

Ariel   a US college co-ed, a campus radio personality in 2013

Maggie   an Irish waitress, Eileen’s granddaughter, 19 yrs old in 2013.

Mary   a young Irish gypsy…tinker…traveler in 2013

SCENE ONE: A basically empty town square (A bench? A streetlamp?) in Ireland. There’s a shabby sign at the edge of the stage reading Doyle’s Public House. The bar itself is offstage.

TIME: Evening, Nov. 22, 1963.

SCENE TWO: A US college radio studio. Basically consisting of a table and two chairs with two mics and indications of the venue e.g. ON THE AIR sign. Little else.

TIME: mid-November, 2013

SCENE THREE: Doyle’s Public House in the same rural town square. It is slickened now with neon and tablecloth dining. It’s hardly the shabby (offstage) pub hinted at 50 years ago. It is now a respectable restaurant with the practically mandatory – for Ireland – picture of JFK.

TIME: November 22, 2013

JACK GILHOOLEY 6620 Grand Point Ave., Bradenton, FL 34201  941 351-9688

jackgilhooley@tampabay.rr.com

 

Deirdre and Oona are heavily dressed against the late November elements. Each carries an unlit flashlight (“torch”).

DEIRDRE

How close did you get?

OONA

I could touch him.

DEIRDRE

So did ye?

OONA

Lord, no.

DEIRDRE

Why not?

OONA

I was afraid.

DEIRDRE

Of what?

OONA

The whole situation.

DEIRDRE

Were you afraid of Kennedy?

OONA

Course not. But he had these big bruiser-type guards.

DEIRDRE

He coulda left them home. He didn’t need them here. In the states, yeah. But not in Wexford. We’re civilized over here. Except on the football pitch. Rumor had it that he’d move over here when his presidency was over. And why not? He’d be able to walk into any pub in the land without guards. The gents wouldn’t have let him buy a round. Lift a jar an’ have a bit of craic with the boyos. A game of darts or two. Then home for dinner with Jackie and the wee ones. Little John-John woulda been old enough to join a football club. His da would have been a sponsor. Take alla the lads out after a match. Treat them to sweets and such. Grand it would be, for sure.

OONA

(Beat) Somehow I never saw that happening.

DEIRDRE

Why not? He could afford sweets for the lads. In that case ye should’ve reached out to him. He was shakin’ hands with any bogtrotter who could reach him. You mighta nicked his wallet.

OONA

I was frozen.

DEIRDRE

How could you freeze in June? If you were that close you coulda kissed him. If I was that close I’d’ve kissed him.

OONA

Deirdre!!!

DEIRDRE

That’s what I’d’ve done. I’d’ve snogged John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Right in front of Jackie. He’d have savored it.

OONA

I’m sure Jackie would’ve panicked over that. Imagine, Deirdre Flanagan as JFK’s teen-aged mistress.

DEIRDRE

That’s somethin’ you could brag about to your grandkids… snoggin’ the President of The United States.

OONA

I wasn’t thinkin’ about grandkids as the President of The United States was approachin’. I was thinkin’ I might wet myself. And I’d hardly tell my grandkids that I kissed the American president. They’d think there auld granny was a cheeky slag.

DEIRDRE

Then you could tell them that you wet yourself.

OONA

I wouldn’t tell them that even if I did. And I didn’t.

DEIRDRE

Congratulations, Oona. Discipline is yer middle name. Y’know, you’ll get nowhere in life bein’ fearful. Look at Marilyn Monroe.

OONA

What’s Marilyn Monroe have to do with it?

DEIRDRE

She sang “Happy Birthday” to him.

OONA

You call that singin’?

DEIRDRE

Not like any “Happy Birthday” I ever heard.

OONA

I seen it onna telly. And right there in fronta his family. It’s certainly not the way I sing “Happy Birthday”.

DEIRDRE

You’re hardly Marilyn Monroe. How would you sing to your lover?

OONA

Stop that kinda talk. I’ll never have a lover. I’ll have a husband. When the time comes. Lovers are for low-life scrubbers.

DEIRDRE

I hear that Marilyn was Kennedy’s lover.

OONA

You’re barmy. You’ve been readin’ those supermarket trash sheets. He’s a fine Catholic man with a wife and two lovely children.

DEIRDRE

So’s yer da.

OONA

Three lovely children.

DEIRDRE

Two lovely children an’ you.

OONA

Me da would never cheat on me mum.

DEIRDRE

Who’d have ‘im?

OONA

Yer not funny, Deirdre.

Geez, now it’s too late.

DEIRDRE

Too late at night? Or too late for you to snog Kennedy.

OONA

Geez, it was only last June. I’ll never have another chance to touch him.

DEIRDRE

They’ll probably have an open casket for the viewin’. You could fly over to Washington, get in line and touch him when you pass by. Kiss ‘em even. No need for security, now.

OONA

I wouldn’t touch a dead man.

DEIRDRE

Not even Kennedy? Why? Death is not contagious.

OONA

Well, snoggin’ seems to be contagious with you. You even kissed Gerald O’Malley behind the stables.

DEIRDRE

Where’d ye hear that?

OONA

Everybody saw it.

DEIRDRE

Who’s everybody?

OONA

Mary Catherine Monaghan. And me sister.

DEIRDRE

That’s everybody??? Those two are nobodies.

For your information, he kissed me. It was not mutual. He snuck up on me. And it wasn’t on the lips. If Gerald O’Malley had kissed me on the lips I’d have run home and washed my mouth out.

OONA

So it was a… well… a sneaky snoggin’. Did you confess it?

DEIRDRE

Course not. I was an innocent party.

OONA

Did you enjoy it?

DEIRDRE

(Shrugs) I might’ve enjoyed it if it hadn’t been Gerald. There was nothin’ to confess.

OONA

Gerald’s sweet on ye.

DEIRDRE

Well, I’m sour on Gerald.

OONA

What if it had been Billy Darby kissed ye’?

DEIRDRE

There’s no comparin’ Billy Darby to Gerald O’Malley. Billy wouldna hadda sneak up on me. I’d be there for the takin’.

OONA

Deirdre!

DEIRDRE

If it had been Billy I would certainly be goin’ to confession on Saturday. I probably wouldn’t even be brushing me teeth.

OONA

You’re barmy. I’d never lose my head like that over a boy.

DEIRDRE

Not even me brother?

OONA

Wha…You mean, Danny?

DEIRDRE

Aye,’at’s me brother, eh? An everybody knows you’re sweet on him.

OONA

Everybody, huh? Like Mary Catherine Monahan and me sister? I have no time for boys at this point.

DEIRDRE

Then you’ll not care that Danny’s sweet on you.

Oona does care that Danny’s interested in her and it shows.

OONA

You sure about that, Deirdre?

Before Deirdre answers, Eileen enters. She too, carries a flashlight. It is lit upon her entry but she turns it off immediately.

DEIRDRE

H’lo, Eileen.

EILEEN

H’lo, mates.

OONA

Hey Eileen, did ya hear?

EILEEN

That Kathy Doyle is preggers? Big surprise.

OONA

Old news. She fingered poor Robbie Ryan.

DEIRDRE

Everyone knows it was Billy Darby done the dirty deed.

OONA                                                                        EILEEN

BILLY DARBY??? No, he wouldn’t of.      That’s a bloody lie!!!

DEIRDRE

Did you think he was savin’ it for you, Oona?

EILEEN

Billy Darby didn’t do it.

DEIRDRE

How do you know?

EILEEN

He confides in me.

OONA

He what???

DEIRDRE

Wishful thinkin’, Eileen. Billy Darby has no interest in you. He was an altar boy.

EILEEN

Was an altar boy? Was he kicked out?

OONA

No, he’s seventeen. Last July.

DEIRDRE

July the 14th. Too old for the altar boys.

EILEEN

So, he’s fair game for anythin’, then? Even a Protestant.

DEIRDRE

An’ no doubt you’d offer him anythin’.

EILEEN

I never had to offer him anythin’. We’re goin’ out.

OONA

In yer dreams.

DEIRDRE

Not possible. Yer da won’t allow it. Nor would Billy’s folks.

EILEEN

So Kathy and Robbie Ryan are getting’ married.

DEIRDRE

It’s either that or the Magdalene laundry for Kathy.

EILEEN

Not a bad deal for Kathy. Robbie’s father owns a service station. Cars will always need gas. She couldn’a done better on the up an’ up.

DEIRDRE

With her mug, she couldna got a lad on the up an‘up.

EILEENR

Maybe the baby will look like him an’ not like her.

OONA

Him? Billy Darby or Robbie Ryan?

EILEEN

Robbie, I guess. Not that he’s any great shakes. So what more could a homely girl ask?  Sometimes it’s not such a bad idea to get yerself up the pole—

DEIRDRE

Kennedy’s dead.

EILEEN

Yer kiddin’.

DEIRDRE

Shot to death.

EILEEN

Who done it?

DEIRDRE

They got a guy but he’s only a suspect.

EILEEN

Bridie Keough musta done it. She never forgave Dermot for givin’ her the boot and takin’ up

with Bridget O’Shea. An’ Bridie’s da is a hunter with plenty of rifles in the house. If the garda needs any evidence, I’ll be glad to offer my opinion.

OONA

G’wan, Bridie wouldn’t harm a fly.

EILEEN

You dunno Bridie the way I know—

OONA

Will you get over Bridie and Kevin Keene? Kevin never knew you existed. It’s not like Bridie set out to steal him from someone who never had him.

EILEEN

I never had him cause I was playin’ hard to get.

OONA

Well, you sure succeeded at that game. By the time you decided to warm up to Kevin, Bridie had him.

EILEEN

I could get him if I thought he was worth it.

DEIRDRE

You two stop yer babblin’. We’re not talkin’ of Dermot Kennedy.

OONA

Course not. It’s John Kennedy been murdered.

EILEEN

Lucky Dermot. Who’s John Kennedy? That’s Dermot’s cousin from Cavan?

DEIRDRE

JACK KENNEDY, YOU NIT!

EILEEEN

(Calmly) Oh, Jack Kennedy. Why didn’t ye say so? Well, that’s America for ye.

OONA

“…that’s America for ye”. That’s all you have to say?

EILEEN

Whataya want me to say? Hooray for America? Ye killed yer own president.

OONA

The greatest man in the world is dead.

EILEEN

Don’t gimmee that. I thought you girls figgered the pope is head man.

OONA

One or the other. Depends on who you talk to.

EILEEN

Not if yer talkin’ t’me. Ask me, why don’tcha? I’d vote for Gary Cooper.

Oona, I know you travelled to Wexford  to see him last summer. An’ he looked like a movie star.

OONA

But not Gary Cooper. Is that what yer sayin’?

EILEEN

But “the greatest man in the world…”???

OONA

You weren’t there. You didn’t feel the excitement. You couldn’t have known.

EILEEN

True. I’m no fool. I watched it on telly at me sister’s house. An’ me da says Kennedy took orders from yer very same pope. Says that they’re building a special addition to the White House for The Pope’s personal quarters. Financed by the stupid taxpayers.

DEIRDRE

Did yer da figger that out drivin’ his lorry?

EILEEN

There’s nothin’ shameful about drivin’ a lorry. (To Oona) Least he’s not a greengrocer. (To Deirdre) Or a postman.

OONA

(To Eileen) Spoken like a true atheist. Did yer aul da tell ye that Kennedy was plannin’ to kill alla the Prots?

EILEEN

PROTESTANTS AREN’T ATHEISTS!!! TAKE THAT BACK!!!

OONA

MAKE ME!!!

They skirmish briefly. Deirdre intercedes. 

DEIRDRE

Enough. This is a solemn time.

They desist. Suddenly, Eileen starts to cry.

OONA

There’s her true colors. I hardly hit ya an’ here comes the water works.

EILEEN

I’m not cryin’ from you. I’m cryin for…Kennedy.

Deirdre and Oona look to one another.

DEIRDRE

You changed yer tune.

EILEEN

I knew he’d… been shot. I hadda steal outta the house cause I can’t cry over Jack Kennedy at home. Me da would hit the ceilin’. Give us a fag, Dee.

DEIRDRE

I stopped smokin’.

EILEEN
You just started smokin’. An’ yer stoppin’ already? That’s dumb. You wanna be some kinda weird duck? Everybody smokes.

DEIRDRE

That’s why I stopped. Plus, it stunts yer growth.

EILEEN

Well then, I’m glad I started at 13. I’m just the height I wanna be.

OONA

Christy Brady’s six-foot-five an smokes like a chimney.

DEIDRE

He’d be six-foot-ten if he didn’t smoke.

EILEEN

Who’d wanna be six-foot-ten?

DEIRDRE

Christy Brady might. Then he could go to the states and play basketball at some college.

OONA

That’s the only way Christy could get to college.

DEIDRE

His family could afford it. But he’s a thick, that one.

OONA

Dumb as a rock.

EILEEN

Sorry, Oona. I was way outta line at a time like this.

They shake hands, unenthusiastically.

EILEEN

An’ this guy they caught. His name is Oswald.

DEIRDRE

Oswald? He musta been mad at the world with a name like Oswald. He shoulda killed his parents for naming him Oswald. Why take it out on Kennedy?

EILEEN

Oswald’s his last name.

OONA

Still, it’s no reason to kill the president.

EILEEN

I gotta go home. Listen to me old man gloat. And lift another pint in praise of Oswald, The Assassin. Crikey.

OONA

That’s disgustin’ An’ no need t’leave. You just got here.

EILEEN

I tole ye’. I come out for a good cry. Besides, I hafta go t’the jacks.

OONA

You can go in the bushes. We’ll watch out for ye.

DEIRDRE

Why doesn’t yer da move to the North if he can’t stand most of his neighbors?

EILEEN

He doesn’t move north cause me mum wouldn’t go with him. Nor would I.

OONA

And where else would ye find such lovely friends as us, eh Eileen?

EILEEN

I was just cryin’, Oona and now you’re makin’ me laugh.

She smiles and exits as she lights her flashlight.

DEIRDRE

Prots aren’t atheists.

`           OONA

I know.

DEIRDRE

You still believe what Sister Agatha told us back in 3rd class.

OONA

I never listened to Sister Aggie. If I ever thought about a vocation, she put the kibosh on it.

DEIRDRE

What’s “kibosh”?

OONA

Figger it out.

DEIRDRE

You mean you thought about the convent back in 3rd class?

OONA
Well, Aggie planted that seed in me head. Didn’t you ever think about the convent?

DEIRDRE

For about five seconds. So what happened with you?

OONA

I started noticin’ boys.

DEIRDRE

I should hope so. You’ve got six brothers.

OONA

You know what I mean. I started noticin’ boys like you started noticin’ Timmy Reilly.

DEIRDRE

Nothin’s gonna come of that.

OONA

Yeah, that’s what Timmy told ye.

`           DEIRDRE

You’re a little bitch,  Oona.

OONA

So be it. I’m goin’.

DEIRDRE

You think Eileen an’ Billy—

OONA

I dunno. Could be. She’s awful pretty.

DEIRDRE

For a Prot, yeah. But she’s not as pretty as Billy is cute. He deserves better.

OONA

That’s the trouble with men. It’s always looks that matters most.

DEIRDRE

The assassination will be all over the telly.

OONA

Why can’t they just let him rest in peace?

DEIRDRE

It’s what people want. It’ll be on for days to come.

OONA

Me mum was sayin’ a rosary when I left the house.

DEIRDRE

Lotta good that’ll do Kennedy, now. Does she think prayers will bring him back to life?

OONA

She’s locked into tradition even if it makes no sense. You know our mums. They’re really prayin’ for themselves to heal. To take the pain away.

DEIRDRE

There’s no mention of the rosary in The Bible.

OONA

You’ve never read The Bible.

DEIRDRE

So what. I have it on good authority.

OONA

What good authority?

DEIRDRE

My cousin Brendan is in the sem. Studyin’ for the priesthood. He says that even the mass isn’t in The Bible.

OONA

Some priest he’ll make.

DEIRDRE

I don’t think he’ll stick it out. Father Molloy pushed him in.

OONA

Misery loves company.

DEIRDRE

I think that’s confessable talk.

OONA

Why? It’s not a curse.

DEIRDRE

True. But it sounds like you blasphemed.

OONA

So be it.

I kept me gob shut with mum. Her rosary is a habit. Leave her to her habits. No harm done. I’m goin’ right to bed. Try to kip, though it won’t be easy.

DEIRDRE

We’ll get over this.

OONA

No, Dee. We’ll never get over it. Tomorra I’m gonna write a poem about JFK’s death.

DEIRDRE

That should be fun.

OONA

It’s not meant to be fun. It will be an elegy.

DEIRDRE

What’s an elegy?

OONA

A poem for the dead.

DEIRDRE

I don’t need to hear that, then. You an’ yer poetry. It sounds pretty but none of it makes any sense. It doesn’t even rhyme.

OONA

It’s not meant to rhyme.

DEIRDRE

Then it’s not poetry. It’s just some gibberish that you call poetry. So what’s the point?

OONA

Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme to be poetry.

DEIRDRE

That sounds like an excuse from someone who can’t even rhyme “moon” with” June”.

OONA

The poems I write are exercises.

DEIRDRE

If I wanna exercise, I ride me bike.

OONA

It’s an instinctive thing with me.

DEIRDRE

Emphasis on “stink”.

Eileen reenters. Her flashlight is out.

EILEEN

Me torch went out an’ I have no batteries.

OONA

So? You know the road. You’ve walked it every day of your life. Just follow the sound of yer drunkin’ da’s cheering Kennedy’s death.

DEIRDRE

You don’t need a torch.

EILEEN

I can find my way home. But they’ll call “time” soon at the pub. Those boozers will never see me in the road without a torch. So Dee, you live just beyond me an’—

DEIDRE

I know where I live, Eileen.

(To Oona) At least we got a day off from school on Monday.

OONA

I’d rather we went to school an’ this never happened.

DEIDRE

OK, OK , Eileen. Let’s head off.

Deirdre lights her flashlight and she and Eileen head off.     

DEIRDRE

Slan (pro. Slawn), Oona.

OONA

Slan, Deirdre.

EILEEN

Slan, Oona.

OONA

Slan, Eileen.

                                                            Oona is alone now and she reflects…

OONA

(To herself) I shoulda reached out an’ touched him.

She stares straight ahead with her lighted flashlight under her chin.

OONA

(To herself, grimly comic) I’m the Grim Reaper, here to claim another one.

She exits with her flashlight beam on the road.

END OF SCENE ONE

 

 

 

 

Jack Gilhooley

Jack Gilhooley–New Dramatists (NYC) alum., Eugene O’Neill Conference guest playwright, NYFTA grant recipient, Fulbright Guest Artist appointments (Spain and Ireland), four FLorida Arts Council grants, two NEA awards (Individual Playwright and International to Centaur Theatre, Montreal), two Puffin grants, John Ringling Fund Award, etc. GUEST ARTIST: Yaddo, MacDowell, Edward Albee, Millay, Djerassi, Hawthornden Castle (SCOT), Tyrone Guthrie Institute (IRELAND) colonies. PRODUCTIONS: NY Shakespeare Fest., Circle Rep, Phoenix, 59e59, Shubert (Phila), ACT/SF, Asolo, Indiana Rep (twice), The Folger (D.C.) etc. PUBLISHERS: Broadway Play Publishing, Inc., New American Library, Smith & Kraus, Samuel French, etc.

Contributions by Jack Gilhooley