Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

Page 13 text:

THE ECHO 11 Mr. Wall (glancing at his watch again) : Tm expecting those two boys I told you about in fifteen minutes. (Then turning to Snowball who had a pretty big pile of dirt collected.) Take a look in the wait- ing room and see if they have arrived yet. (Snowball leans his broom against the wall and exits left.) Miss Martin: Well, Mr. Wall, I sure wish you luck. I’ll sit at my desk and do the heavy looking on for awhile. (Crosses and sits down at the desk at left, and begins to look over her papers.) (Snowball enters left, and with him is Benjamin Hackett, a tall, good looking farmer lad of about twenty-one years of age.) Ben. Hackett (walking towards Mr. Wall’s desk) : You — , er — , er sent for me, sir ? Mr. Wall (reassuring) : Why, yes, but you don’t have to be nervous in my office, my boy. Now, to get down to business. Have you any credentials? Ben. Hackett (innocently) : You mean have I any credit? No I don’t owe bills ; my father always taught us not to buy on credit. Mr. Wall (smiling out of the corner of his mouth) : I mean, have you any good points you would like to tell me about yourself? Ben. Hackett: Gosh, there isn’t much to tell about myself. I’m just a poor farmer. I won the prize that the dramatic club offered for the best actor of the year. That’s why I am here. (During this conversation Snowball was moving around within earshot, and Miss Martin was listening and taking down any thing she thought important.) Mr. Wall: All right. Snowball, you may go now and take that pile of dirt with you. Snowball (looking first at the dirt and then at Ben. Hackett) : I thought ah could leave the dirt thar, and yo new actor could plant some ob his farm products there. Ha, Ha ! (Exits left carrying dust- pan full of dirt.) Mr. Wall (watching Snowball with a sour look on his face) : Never mind him, my boy. He’s always like that. Miss Martin (knowingly) : Yes, you’ll have to get used to that and even worse than that, but Snowball has a kind heart. He’ll do anything for you. Ben. Hackett (joyfully) : Why — , er — , er the way you two are talking you make me think I’m going to be working here with you. Miss Martin: Well, by the looks of my notes here, you’ve got more chance than any we have had so far. Mr. Wall (understandingly) : Don’t build the boy’s hopes too high. Miss Martin. I have another caller this afternoon. (At this moment the door at left opens with a bang, and Snow- ball comes in all excited and runs over to Mr. Wall’s desk.) Snowball (all out of breath) : 0 boy ! Man, oh man, yo outa see da ’andsome sheik dat don just come in de waiting room! I don think yo had better thro’ this flat footed farmer out and give dis one some ob yo fancy talking to. Mr. Wall (very angry and embarrassed) : Get out! You’ve been

Page 12 text:

10 THE ECHO “MAY THE BEST MAN WIN” One-act comedy by Ada Clooney Characters: Benjamin Hackett — A tall, blond, good natured farmer about twenty- one years of age. Carlo Navarra — A tall, dark, foreign looking fellow with a very high opinion of himself. Mr. Wall — A very jolly, friendly motion picture producer who finds it very difficult to find suitable actors for his productions. Miss Martin — An attractive secretary to Mr. Wall, about twenty years of age. Mr. Wall depends almost entirely on her to make his selections. Snowball — A jolly, comical negro who acts as office boy, janitor, and whatever else Mr. Wall might need. Setting — Mr. Wall’s office in the middle of the afternoon. The curtain rises to find Snowball slowly sweeping the floor and humming a popular tune. Mr. Wall is seated at his desk, glancing first at his wrist-watch and then the door. CURTAIN Mr. Wall (angrily) : For heaven’s sake. Snowball, stop that in- fernal singing! You’re driving me mad! Snowball (with a hurt look on his face) : Gee, boss, yo don calls mah singin’ infernal, and mah sugar she don thinks it’s swell. Mr. Wall: Well, it may sound sw’ell to some people, but I’m tell- ing you it grates on my nerves. Snowball (leaning on the broom with which he had been sweep- ing) : Boss, yo’s always saying how things grate on yo nerves, and ah still can’t figure it out. Mr. Wall (with signs of interest) : Can’t figure what out. Snowball ? Snowball: Well, ah’s watched my mammy grate lemons and cheese, and ah can’t see how mah singin’ can do the same thing to you. Mr. Wall (disgustedly) : Oh, Snowball, you get dumber and dumber every day. (At this moment Miss Martin enters left ; she is breathless and excited for she knows she is a few minutes late. Under her arm she carries a leather folder containing papers.) Miss Martin (excitedly) : Oh, Mr. Wall, am I late? I thought I’d never get here on that poky street car. Mr. Wall (cheerily) : Why, yes. Miss Martin, you’re three and one-half minutes late. Well, what did you make out of the character sketches I gave you to look over last night? Do they fit the part I need for my new production ? Miss Martin (disgustedly): No, there wasn’t one of them that would fit into the part. They’re all the Romeo type that come in every day. What you want for this part is a clean cut farmer boy. To tell you the truth, Mr. Wall, I doubt very much if you’ll be successful.

Page 14 text:

12 THE ECHO all together too cock-sure of yourself today. Go on down stairs and don’t let me set eyes on you again today. Miss Martin, you go and show the gentleman in. Miss Martin (sympathetically) : Yes, I’ll see to him, but don’t be too hard on Snowball, boss. He really does mean all right. (Exits left.) Mr. Wall (kindly) : You may go now, my boy, but wait outside, I may want you again. (Ben. Hackett exits left; Mr. Wall sits and drums his fingers nervously on his desk.) Miss Martin (enters left and with her. Carlo Navarra, the dark, foreign looking gentleman who walks very straight, with a gallant strut across to Mr. Wall’s desk) : Here’s the gentleman you asked to see, Mr. Wall. His name is Carlo Navarra from Hoosick Falls, New York. C. Navarra (sitting himself on the edge of the desk) : Yes, that’s me. When do I start to rehearse, and, by the way, is that cute little secretary (with a wink toward Miss Martin) to be my leading lady? Mr. Wall (very irritated) : Why, young man, what makes you think you are going to get this job? You’re pretty sure of yourself. C. Navarra: Why, of course. I knew that before anyone else did. Miss Martin (disgustedly) : Yes, I guess you did. (Rises and exits left, looking back at Navarra disdainfully.) Mr. Wall (thoughtfully) : Now, I would like to know a little about you. What made you start in this business, anyway? C. Navarra (twirling his hat in his hands) : Well, I used to take part in all the plays at school. I was so good that the people nick- named me Romeo. Mr. Wall (beginning to lose interest) : What kind of scenes did you play in? C. Navarra: Oh, I’ve played in all kinds — love scenes, comical and others, but most all my plays were romances. Mr. Wall: Just how many plays have you been in, Mr. Navarra? C. Navarra (putting his hand to his head as if to think) : Now, let me see, one, two — yes it was three, but I used to say poems when I was a kid. Mr. Wall (in a surprised voice) : Three! Why, my dear young man, don’t you know you’re supposed to be experienced, or have won a prize, or gained some sort of mark in the dramatic world to even dare to show your face in one of these offices? C. Navarra (still in his know-it-all manner) : Well, you see, sir, I have so much confidence in myself that I was sure if I had a chance I could show you some pretty good acting. (At this point Snowball enters right bringing the afternoon mail, which he places on Miss Martin’s desk. He walks very slowly on tip- toes trying to keep Mr. Wall from seeing him.) Mr. Wall (looking up quickly) : Snowball, you may show Mr. Hackett in now. (Then turning to Miss Martin.) Have you prepared all your notes. Miss Martin? If you have, I guess we are ready to make a decision.