EXT. NEW YORK CITY—JULY, PRESENT DAY
AERIAL SHOT. As the camera zooms in, we see the city below, with its skyscrapers jutting boldly into the sky high above the street-level chaos. As the camera comes closer, we see the blur of vehicles in the city streets.
The camera comes even lower, and we see rapidly moving traffic. The streets of Lower Manhattan are glutted with cars. We see pedestrians darting in between the cars and hear the blare of a hip-hop recording that matches the frantic pace of the traffic.
The camera zooms in even farther and focuses on a YOUNG WOMAN eating lunch on the white steps of a building. She is on her cell phone as the camera begins to zoom out, and we see the city as a rich mosaic of colors, which turns into an urban gray blur. The blur lasts for a few seconds.
AERIAL SHOT, then zoom in. This time the buildings are not as stark, the traffic in the streets not quite so frantic. The cars are older. The camera focuses on a MAN eating lunch on a park bench. The newspaper he is reading has a headline about the Supreme Court’s decision in Brown v. the Topeka Board of Education. We see the date: it is 1954.
A YOUNG WHITE COUPLE is sitting down not far from the MAN reading the paper. The young man puts his hand on her knee, and she pushes it quickly away. We see her stand and start to walk away as the camera begins to zoom out. She turns to see if he is following as the shot becomes more distant and blurs.
EXT. NEW YORK CITY—JULY 1900
AERIAL SHOT, then zoom in again. The streets of Lower Manhattan are still clogged, but this time with horse-drawn carriages. Men in bowler hats chat amiably on one corner. On another corner two NEWSBOYS, one white and one black, fight as other boys cheer them on. The camera focuses on a YOUNG WHITE MAN reading an illustrated paper as he leans against a lamppost.
The camera pans away from the YOUNG MAN and onto a crowded street on which we see pushcarts and Jewish vendors. Here we see a YOUNG BLACK GIRL feeding bread crumbs to pigeons. She tries to shoo away a larger pigeon. It refuses to move, and she stamps her foot, sending the small covey of birds into the air as the camera zooms out again to a blurred view of the area.
EXT. NEW YORK CITY—JULY 11, 1863
AERIAL SHOT, then the sound of music rises as the camera slowly moves in once again. The streets of Lower Manhattan are indistinct but sharpen gradually. We hear the clicking of telegraph keys, and words appear on the screen, moving from right to left:
July 11, 1863. Generals optimistic after Gettysburg. Losses heavy. Lincoln urged to call up more men.
Behind the words, we see the streets. There is a brief stop on a row of crudely built wooden dwellings. We see a heavy WOMAN selling fish on the streets and a YOUNG MAN getting a haircut from a sidewalk BARBER.
The camera pans past several streets, on one of which a number of YOUNG WHITE PEOPLE are arguing. Their dress is poor, the men in patched pants and ill-fitting shirts, the women in shabby long dresses, some with dirty aprons over them. The camera pans past, then stops and returns to the activity for a long moment.
EXT. FIVE POINTS AREA—SAME DAY (CONTINUOUS)
FIRST YOUNG WOMAN
From the way the papers are reading, I thought the bloody war was almost over. What do they need a draft for? Stealing our young men away for nothing.
SECOND YOUNG WOMAN
As long as they’re keeping it far away from Henry Street, they can do with it what they want is what I’m saying. The good Lord has his face turned away from the likes of us, and that’s for sure.
FIRST YOUNG WOMAN
Johnny McCall was down at the office where the government men pulled the names out of a drum. He said you would have thought they were pulling the names of the first men to waltz their way through the pearly gates, what with all the speeches and the chests sticking out. He said the firemen are hopping mad. Can you imagine the firemen having to leave to fight a war when we need them right here?
Well, if I was a man, it would be over me dead body they’d be reaching for their tea! Imagine, poor men leaving their wives and homes to go fight while the rich men pat their bellies and wave them off with their silk hankies!
FIRST YOUNG WOMAN
Ay! And you can bet your sweet life on that, too.
The camera moves on, and we see a NEWSBOY selling a paper to a wounded SOLDIER. The SOLDIER is tall, gaunt. He carries a bundle stuck in his crutch. He looks up toward the camera and then quickly away.
INT. THE PEACOCK INN—JULY 13, 1863
The Peacock Inn is a shabby-genteel restaurant-tavern on Bedford Street, run by JOHN and ELLEN JOHNSON, who live upstairs with their daughter, CLAIRE.
CLAIRE JOHNSON (15) and her best friend, PRISCILLA SKINNER (also 15), are sitting at one of the rectangular tables. They are sewing a quilt.
CLAIRE is thin and pretty, with skin color light enough to pass for Caucasian. She has soft brown eyes, sharp features, and chestnut-colored hair, which she has combed up until it almost forms a halo around a sweet face. She is wearing a flower-patterned cotton dress and a neat apron.
PRISCILLA is dark, obviously African American, and is dressed similarly. She is also pretty, with a round face that is quick to smile.
PRISCILLA
So, if you were feeling sick, would you let a doctor examine you?
CLAIRE
Are you feeling sick?
PRISCILLA
No, I was just wondering. What would you do if he asked you to undress?
CLAIRE
I’d do it—as long as he had his eyes closed and his hands behind his back and he was at least a hundred and twelve! And you?
PRISCILLA
I’d faint dead away, and then he could do whatever he wanted to me.
ELLEN JOHNSON (37), CLAIRE’s mother, enters with a mop and bucket. She looks somewhat older than her age but is attractive, and the resemblance between her daughter and her is clear.
ELLEN
And what are you girls up to?
CLAIRE
Priscilla’s got her squares wrong. I’m straightening them out for her.
PRISCILLA
They aren’t wrong, Mrs. Johnson, just different from what Claire had in mind. You know how bossy she can be.
ELLEN
(looking at the quilt)
So what did you have in mind?
CLAIRE
Priscilla was telling me how the slaves make quilts in the South that are really like maps. They have a star and paths that lead to the star.
(looking at PRISCILLA)
Priscilla, you were born in Brooklyn. How do you know about what the poor slaves are doing?
PRISCILLA
From my great-aunt Esther. She was born in Virginia. When the man who owned her died, her father ran off north with the whole family.
ELLEN
This the old woman who lives uptown in Broadway Alley?
PRISCILLA
Yes.
ELLEN
Sweet lady, she is. I don’t think the rowdies will get that far uptown.
ROBERT VAN VORST (15) enters. He is white and slightly overweight but handsome and well dressed, with dark hair combed straight back and a high forehead.
ROBERT
I’ve just been down to the Grand Street draft office, inquiring whether I might apply for a commission. They obviously need good men, and I’m willing to go.
CLAIRE
I heard they were rioting near the waterfront.
ROBERT
Slackers. They’re actually protesting against the draft! Can you believe it? Father said that there was a police lineup across from the Tribune. They’ve thrown rocks through the windows of the stores along the side streets.
ELLEN
It’s not safe to be out and about. John says they were ugly this morning. He said the Dead Rabbits were running around as if they owned the streets.
Well, then, the army will just have to deal with gangs like the Dead Rabbits, won’t they? They’re mostly young drunks and old people, anyway. If I were commanding a battalion, I’d send a half dozen of my best men to put down the gangs.
ELLEN
Robert, they’re not having fifteen-year-olds commanding battalions.
PRISCILLA
I think they could, because you just have to tell the men where to go and what to do.
CLAIRE
You think they could because it’s your precious Robert who wants to lead them, Priscilla. Too bad he’s not a doctor.
PRISCILLA
Claire Johnson!
ROBERT
(full of himself)
She’s right, of course. Officers lead men and direct them to where they need to go. Like Meade at Gettysburg. Did you read in the Times how his men held their positions against Longstreet?
PRISCILLA
What time is it? I have to get to the orphanage.
CLAIRE
Robert, you’re not carrying Priscilla’s books today. Do you think it’s really safe? I mean, they’re throwing rocks….
ROBERT
I’ll go with her to see she’s safe.
CLAIRE
(teasing)
And don’t forget to put your arm around her if you see any danger, Captain Van Vorst.
PRISCILLA
(gathering her reticule)
Claire!
CLAIRE
(serious)
Both of you keep your eyes open!
ROBERT and PRISCILLA are at the door of the Peacock.
CLAIRE
Ta-ta, my dear.
ROBERT and PRISCILLA exit. CLAIRE starts to put away the sewing.
ELLEN
Do you think Priscilla’s really sweet on Robert?
CLAIRE
She’d marry him tomorrow if she could get him from under his mother’s thumb.
ELLEN
A man that’s under his mother’s thumb needs to stay there until he can wiggle out himself.
CLAIRE
Priscilla’s ready to give him a tug. She thinks his mother doesn’t want to let him grow up. Like all mothers.
CLAIRE
And you’re supposed to be teaching me the rest of the song about the black rosebud. Did you forget that?
ELLEN
And you have a sweet voice. I’d tell Mum that if she were still alive. It’s the Irish in your heart that makes your voice so sweet. Let’s hear you sing.
CLAIRE
(singing)
The Erne at its highest flood,
I dashed across unseen,
For there was lightning in my blood,
My dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
Oh, there was lightning in my blood,
My dark Rosaleen!
ELLEN
Oh, and you do have such a sweet voice. If your feet weren’t so big, I could marry you off before the weekend!
(kisses CLAIRE’s hand)
ELLEN
Liam’s friend? Because I can’t do all the cooking and cleaning and everything that’s to be done in this place. You know that, Claire. And your father wants you to continue school. Get something beside daydreams in that pretty head of yours.
CLAIRE
Mother, you know what I mean…. If you’re going to hire someone to work in the Peacock, then why not Priscilla? She loves the children in the orphanage, but there’s not a lot for her there.
ELLEN
(sits at the table with her daughter)
The Peacock is quite a lovely business, Claire, and you know it. Your father and I want to buy it one day. We’ve been talking with Mr. Valentine—
CLAIRE
I don’t care about Mr. Valentine.
Well, I do, and your father does as well. We’re trying to convince him to sell us this place. It has a good reputation—
CLAIRE
He’s been letting it run down. We’re giving it back its reputation.
ELLEN
And so we are, colleen. This place has been here for a while and people know about it. But he wants it to be a place for a high-class clientele. We don’t want to open some place like the Gallant Frog down the street, do we? Oh, is that ever a hooligan haven.
CLAIRE
He means a place for white people?
ELLEN
There’s nothing wrong with white people, Claire. And seeing that I am one of them, I’m hoping that you can understand that. We’ll have all kinds of people here if your father and I have anything to do with it.
In two months, this war will be over. Then there won’t be any more slavery and then it won’t matter if any of us are white or black.
ELLEN
Did the Good Lord himself tell you that, Claire? Because if He did, I’m very much impressed. The last person I know who heard the Lord talking back to him was your great-uncle, and that was only when he had a few pints in him.
CLAIRE
So we can’t hire Priscilla because Mr. Valentine wants white people working here?
ELLEN
Your father says that once we get the place going, we can have anyone we want staying here and working here. Do you think your father, a black man, would turn away his own people?
CLAIRE
When we do own this place, I’m going to have the fanciest lace curtains you’ve ever seen. And I saw the absolutely perfect chandelier in that shop on Broadway. The moment people walk in the front door, they’ll know they’re in a place of quality. But—and this is important—I’ll have different sets of curtains for different days. Some gleaming white and others just a little off white—maybe ivory—with those little designs that you see in the fancy shops.
ELLEN
Is it an inn you’ll be running or a palace?
CLAIRE
It’ll be an inn but so fine that people will come to New York just to visit us. And we’ll steal that sour-faced little cook from Fraunces Tavern.
ELLEN
You’ve got your dreams neatly lined up, haven’t you?
CLAIRE
They’re better dreams than Mr. Valentine will ever have and I’ll thank you for knowing that, I will. And now I’ll be off to fetch the milk for this afternoon’s tea.
ELLEN
You’ll be doing no such thing. There’s too much afoot out there. Your father was about this morning and he said it’s not just the roughnecks out there. It’s a mob of people and they’re in an ugly mood. They’ve even torn down some telegraph poles on the East Side, although I don’t see how that does very much for them.
CLAIRE
Father said they’re protesting against the draft. They don’t want to fight in the war.
ELLEN
Well, neither do I, but you don’t see me tearing down any telegraph poles, do you? All across Fourteenth Street! Of all the foolishness. We’d better all stay in until things grow quiet again. And the talk is that they’re attacking black people in the street.
CLAIRE
I don’t see why you have to be a black person or a white person. Why can’t you just be a person?
ELLEN
Well, if you’re a rose or a daisy, you’re still a flower. People see what they have a mind to see. You were born a girl. Do you have a complaint about that, too?
CLAIRE
(pensive)
I’m not complaining.
When I was born, did you write to your mother about me?
ELLEN
Of course I did.
CLAIRE
Did you tell her I was black or white?
ELLEN
I told her you were a baby girl and that all of your parts seemed reasonably intact.
(tries to lighten the conversation)
Let’s see, you had one nose, as many toes as you were needing—
CLAIRE
And did you tell her that my dad is black?
ELLEN
I wrote that he was tall, dark, and quite the good looker. I let her imagine the rest. The hard part was skirting around the notion that he wasn’t Catholic.
CLAIRE
Oh, you’re sneaky clever, Mrs. Johnson.
There is a knock on the door, and LIAM (17) and MAEVE (16) enter.
LIAM
Morning, Mrs. Johnson. Morning, Claire.
ELLEN
Morning, Liam. You’re looking handsome today.
CLAIRE
But why are you combing your hair straight back? You know I never like it that way.
LIAM
My friend thinks it makes me look older.
CLAIRE
(Glances at Maeve)
Does she now?
ELLEN
And does your friend have a name?
ELLEN
Oh, yes. Well, I’m glad the two of you aren’t running around the streets like madmen. Can you use a cold glass of lemonade?
LIAM
That I could, ma’am. I was telling Maeve how I worked here from time to time and how you were looking for a girl. She’s sort of my intended.
ELLEN
Well, sit yourselves down. Lemonade is as good sitting as it is standing.
(LIAM and MAEVE sit)
CLAIRE
I didn’t know you had an intended, Liam. And all this time I’ve had my hopes up.
LIAM
Go on with yourself, Claire.
LIAM
Old enough if I can keep working steady. I’m doing errands for you, but I’ll shame the devil and tell you right out that I’m looking for something stronger.
MAEVE
My mother wasn’t but sixteen, same as me, when she got married.
ELLEN
Well, those were the old days—when you married coming down the gangplank. So tell me where you worked before.
MAEVE
For a gentleman who lived on Gramercy Park. He was an old man who needed looking after. I cleaned for him and sometimes made him tea. But he up and died in a sudden way and left me without a job and the week’s pay because his daughter said she didn’t know if I had been paid or not.
MAEVE
No, ma’am. But I go to Mass on a regular basis and I give to the poor. I was in church when I seen Father Donahue.
ELLEN
We’re looking for someone who’s worked in a hotel.
MAEVE
(looking about)
I can pour pints, too.
ELLEN
Learn that at Mass, did you?
MAEVE
No, ma’am.
CLAIRE
Can you make square corners on a bed?
MAEVE
I don’t know. I never tried it. Are you working here?
There is the sound of a disturbance outside, and we hear shouts and some cursing as a small group passes.
LIAM
(excitedly)
They’re headed uptown. I think I’m going with them.
(gets up to leave)
CLAIRE
Were you drafted?
LIAM
No, but I’m protesting! Miss Ellen, do you know what life is about in Five Points? It’s not pretty.
ELLEN
I know, but you’re such a darling lad. We’d hate to see you hurt, Liam. Wouldn’t we, Claire?
CLAIRE
(quietly)
He knows that.
MAEVE
Oh, he’s all excited, he is. They were singing about going to Dublin and marching as gay as you please all the way down Mercer Street. And every time they came to the end of a line with a “Whack follol de rah” they would break out a window!
CLAIRE
That’s terrible. Why would anyone want to do that?
MAEVE
Well, it’s the Irish against the swells and the Coloreds. They’ve been pushing us around too long, they have. You can’t walk down the sidewalk without a swell pushing you off into the street or one of the Coloreds taking your jobs. I hear they have them by the hundreds in Jersey City just waiting to rush over to New York at the drop of a hat.
You won’t be able to find a scrap of work that they won’t do for half the money.
That’s how the Coloreds are. They’ll work for nothing until they chase us out and we’ll be the beggars and street sweepers.
It’s in the Bible!
ELLEN
Well, I’ll be! Darling, you won’t do for this job. We need someone with more experience. I’m very sorry. I’m sure you’ll find a good job somewhere else.
MAEVE
Can I wait here for a moment in case Liam comes back?
ELLEN
(looks toward CLAIRE)
Well, I have to run to the chemist to pick up some medicine for Dr. Smith. My husband works for him.
MAEVE
(sarcastically)
Fancy that.
ELLEN
I’ll be back shortly.
MAEVE looks around the Peacock. Where she was apprehensive in dealing with ELLEN, now she begins to look more confident as she glances sideways at CLAIRE.
MAEVE
So, do they treat you good here?
CLAIRE
That’s my ma that runs the place.
MAEVE
Then you’ve got it nice, haven’t you?
CLAIRE
Nice enough. Do you like breaking windows?
MAEVE
It’s a way to get back at the swells. They hate to lose money, you know. A swell would rather see his wife die than lose a hundred dollars. That’s because they enjoy being a swell more than anything.
CLAIRE
Everyone should enjoy being who they are.
CLAIRE
I’m…I’m only half Irish.
MAEVE
And what’s the other half?
CLAIRE
My father’s black.
MAEVE
No!
CLAIRE
Yes!
MAEVE
No!
CLAIRE
Yes!
MAEVE
Does your mother know?
MAEVE crosses to CLAIRE and examines her closely, even touches her hair as CLAIRE sits stiffly.
MAEVE
You’d never know it! And you’d be a fool to let anyone in on it, wouldn’t you?
CLAIRE
Why would I care?
MAEVE
Is that why I didn’t get the job? Because of what I said about the Coloreds?
CLAIRE
My mother wanted someone with experience.
MAEVE
(leans forward)
I’m not saying that it’s wrong to be a Colored. But I don’t want to be one, and I don’t like them. You’re not really Colored no matter what your father is about. You’re as white as me from the looks of you, and you’d be a fool to be anything else.
CLAIRE
I think you’d better go now.
MAEVE
(somewhat cocky)
You don’t look very tough. You ever been in a fight?
CLAIRE
Do you know how easy it would be for me to have you arrested?
MAEVE
That’s the swell part of you coming out, isn’t it? Only the swells say it with their noses in the air like the Coloreds.
CLAIRE
You don’t make a bit of sense.
MAEVE
If you were regular people like I am, or like Liam, you would be on my side, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t be threatening to call the coppers, would you? That’s what they’re fighting about in the streets, dearie. How the Irish are the ones being pushed around. And how the swells are looking to send us off to fight for the Coloreds.
ELLEN enters, carrying a small package. She quickly senses something is going on between the two girls.
ELLEN
The order was only half filled. John will have to get the rest another time.
MAEVE
Maybe I’ll be back, ma’am, in case you change your mind.
MAEVE exits.
ELLEN
Something going on?
CLAIRE
No. No, not really.
EXT. DOWNTOWN NEW YORK—SAME DAY
A CROWD of some fifty young white men and some women has gathered across the street from the offices of the Tribune. Some throw stones at the building. The camera pans the CROWD, stops for a moment on an excited LIAM, who seems slightly confused as he tries to take in everything around him.
We turn a corner and see DENNIS RILEY (17) and TOMMY ENRIGHT (19), two members of the street gang known as the Dead Rabbits. They are dressed in recently stolen top hats, formal dress pants (also stolen), and suspenders over white undershirts. Both men have red ribbons pinned around the left cuff of their pants. They are talking to a group of eager young boys. Among them is BILLY EVANS (12).
DENNIS RILEY
The coppers are waiting for us to make a move, but we’re biding our time, boys. Waiting for the tide to come to us. What we’re looking for is someone to do some carrying. Ya getting a cut of everything ya carry and you can take that as gospel.
TOMMY ENRIGHT
Ten percent is yours off the top. We do the snatching while you hang back on the corner. Then we bring you the goods and you carry it to where we tell you. We’ll deal with the coppers. All you need to do is watch out for the Bowery Boys, who don’t have enough tin in their kidneys to do the lifting. You kiddies with us or against us?
I’d rather join the army meself. You get a regular gun and bullets, and they give you three hundred dollars for your pocket. You can’t beat that, and you don’t have to do no running.
TOMMY ENRIGHT
Wha? Wha? Wha you gonna do, kiddy? You gonna go off and fight for the darkies? The rich people are getting to two-step away from the bloody war for three hundred dollars. Now figure this one out. They’re selling blacks down in Georgia for a thousand dollars. That means that your life ain’t even worth half of what a black man’s life is worth. That’s what you going for? Huh? That’s what you going for?
BILLY EVANS
I always thought about going into the army. Maybe the 7th Irish.
DENNIS RILEY
You got your war right here in the streets, pie-face. And after this little rough-and-tumble is over, they’re going to know we got something to say and it ain’t only the abolitionists making the newspapers.
I heard the coppers are shooting at people. They got a guy on Tenth Street and shot him in both legs!
TOMMY ENRIGHT
That’s what they’re doing, Billy boy. Don’t you see? They don’t really care about none of this because half the cops are as Irish as we are. They’re shooting up in the air and down at the ground so they don’t hurt us. And you don’t need to be anywhere near the shooting because all you’re going to be doing is carrying the goods we bring you. You want to be a Dead Rabbit, or you want to go join the little girls’ brigade? We can call ya Little Miss Molly.
BILLY EVANS
Yeah, yeah. I’m with you. But this makes me a full member, right? I get me ten percent, like you said, and I’m a Rabbit?
DENNIS RILEY
It’s a hard bargain you drive, Billy, but you’re never gonna forget this day. This is the day you woke up a kid and went to sleep a man. That’s right. You’re going to sleep tonight a real man.
TOMMY ENRIGHT
Nah. We got no time for that. That ain’t smart, and smart is my middle name, Bucky Boy. Okay, let’s get the boys moving. Get them going across the street and right toward the shops. Keep a line of the biggest guys on the left, nearest the coppers, to hold them off. We’ll throw a little charge at the police at the same time we smash the windows. Then it’s grab and run, a few fists and stones, and everybody is out of here. You kids get to that corner and be ready when we come back.
The camera looks down the street.
TOMMY ENRIGHT
(cont’d)
You ready?
BILLY EVANS & FRIENDS
(in unison)
Ready!
DENNIS RILEY and TOMMY ENRIGHT start across the street, with ENRIGHT leading. The camera pulls back, and we see a knot of young men and women, who start to cheer when they see the two gang members come forward. The CROWD starts to follow the two toward a line of stores.
The camera quickly switches to a group of POLICEMEN, who start toward the CROWD. There is a direct confrontation, and the POLICE begin to beat the members of the CROWD.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of MAEVE. Her face is a picture of incredible anger as she screams at the POLICE.
CUT TO:
MAIN SHOT: We see TOMMY ENRIGHT fall. The camera moves into the conflict, and we are in the middle of it, with bodies flashing around us, as well as cries of pain. There is the sound of a gunshot, and we see POLICE shooting into the air. The camera spins crazily and everything goes dark, but we still hear the sounds of the battle. Then the sounds stop.
POLICE OFFICER
(voice-over)
That’ll show them. Just leave them lying there. Their relatives can come sort them out in the morning if they have the mind to. That’ll show them. It’s late in the day. Things should be quieting down a bit.
We see nine POLICE OFFICERS, some winded from their efforts, looking down the street. The camera pans down the street, and we see the CROWD in disarray, with some holding their heads. It has been a brutal encounter.
EXT. A QUIET SECTION OF FIFTH AVENUE—SAME DAY
We see a street sign that indicates that we are on Fifth and Fortieth Street. Two UPPER-CLASS MEN and a WOMAN are walking down the street.
FIRST UPPER-CLASS MAN
They’ll go home once it gets dark. Maybe if they sleep off the liquor, they’ll wake with some sense in their heads.
SECOND UPPER-CLASS MAN
In any case, the mayor will have things under control by the morning. I’m sure of that.
UPPER-CLASS WOMAN
Are those people coming this way?
We see a small CROWD of people walking along, almost casually—except for the clubs some are carrying.
FIRST UPPER-CLASS MAN
The very nerve of these people.
UPPER-CLASS WOMAN
We’d better get inside.
SECOND UPPER-CLASS MAN
My goodness! What could they want in this neighborhood?
FIRST UPPER-CLASS MAN
I don’t believe their morals stretch far beyond what they can drink or have the pleasure of stealing. But I agree, better to be indoors.
INT. THE COLORED ORPHAN ASYLUM—SAME DAY
Beside a row of neatly made beds, two WOMEN in their late twenties—one white, one black—and an elderly WHITE MAN are gathering the CHILDREN and lining them up. There is a clear sense of urgency as they get the CHILDREN, all between four and ten, ready to leave. In the background we hear occasional shouts and the sound of breaking glass.
We see PRISCILLA cradling a baby in her right arm and holding the hand of a small black girl.
WHITE WOMAN
Hold hands! Quickly! Quickly! We’ll march smartly through the side doors!
WHITE MAN
They’re breaking the windows!
PRISCILLA
Come along! Come along! This way!
She starts through an open door. The CHILDREN, obviously distressed, begin to file out. One older girl stops to straighten the corner of a bed and then her hand is taken by the WHITE WOMAN.
PRISCILLA
Why would they want to hurt the children?
WHITE MAN
We can’t reason with them, that’s for sure. Let’s just get out of here.
PRISCILLA stands at the doorway while the last of the CHILDREN are taken out. She looks around the still, neat room. Her face tightens, and for a moment, it looks as if she will burst into tears. But then she becomes strong again and exits.
We hear distinct sounds of glass breaking and a pounding on the door as the last child leaves. There is more pounding, and then a young white WOMAN, one of the rioters, enters. She puts her hands on her hips as she surveys the scene.
Suddenly, a black BOY pops into the room and runs to a small desk at the front of the room. He pushes aside a pile of paper and takes a Bible from the desk, unaware of the WOMAN’s presence. He starts to head for the door and then freezes as he sees the WOMAN. She crosses to him and takes the Bible out of his hand. For a moment they are frozen in time. The noise from the other room increases as the other rioters draw near.
The WOMAN gives the Bible back to the BOY and gives him a little push toward the door. As he reaches the door, PRISCILLA appears in the doorway, looking for the BOY. The two women look at each other, and then PRISCILLA and the BOY exit.
A group of RIOTERS enters. The men look in closets and throw the bedding and clothes they find onto the floor. The women begin picking it up.
FIRST WOMAN
(holding up a child’s garment)
It’s perfect for my Mary.
SECOND WOMAN
Too good for the little picaninnies. That’s for sure.
Other WOMEN enter and begin taking linen and clothing, stuffing it into their own bosoms or waists.
MAN
Let’s burn it down!
FIRST WOMAN
Wait! Let’s go through the closets first. There might be more clothing in there.
WHITE MAN
You don’t want hand-me-downs from no blacks. You won’t be able to get the stink out of them.
The WOMEN ignore him and continue stuffing clothing into pillowcases.
A THIRD WOMAN
Look under the beds. There might be shoes. Oh, how I would love a pair of decent shoes for Katie. (Wistfully) Nine years old and she’s never had a proper pair of girl’s shoes.
ANOTHER WOMAN
(holding a coat)
This is hemmed. I can let it out nice as you please.
CUT TO:
LONG SHOT: The front of the Colored Orphan Asylum. There are RIOTERS milling about the grounds. Some are throwing rocks through the windows. Through the broken glass we see the first flickering of flames.
CUT TO:
LONG SHOT of some wagons, plus a few coaches. The camera zooms in, and we see the CHILDREN from the Colored Orphan Asylum. They are singing and holding hands. The wagons are driven by blacks and whites.
INT. 7th DISTRICT POLICE STATION—SAME DAY
A number of BLACK PEOPLE are huddled together on benches, obviously frightened. A man comforts a woman who, in turn, has her arm around an older woman, who rocks softly and hums. There are a number of POLICEMEN trying to work around the people seeking shelter.
SERGEANT
What’s the situation in the park?
OFFICER MCCLUSKER
They’re gathering their strength and drinking as much courage as they can find. We should close the bars.
OFFICER BARNES
The Dead Rabbits and the Bowery Boys are out with them, egging them on.
OFFICER MCCLUSKER
There’s an old Colored granny over there I think I’ll take around to my place. My missus will look after her. She’s got no family.
OFFICER BARNES
We’ve got a few dollars in the precinct fund. Take what you need from there—anything to help these poor people. This is getting to be more and more of a cesspool. They killed Colonel O’Brien of the 11th Volunteers—did him in horrible, too—and all the soldiers coming into the city are growing uglier by the minute. There’ll be more widows than heroes before this thing is over.
OFFICER MCCLUSKER
And these poor devils don’t know which way to turn.
CUT TO:
A group of BLACKS huddled together in the station.
OFFICER MCCLUSKER
(cont’d)
They’re chasing and beating every one of them they find in the streets. Between them torturing Negroes and stealing what they can, they’ll be up all the night.
OFFICER BARNES
We find the leaders and beat a tattoo on their heads, and they’ll soon come to their senses. Give them enough headaches and some time behind bars to let the whiskey wear off enough, and the starch will leave their backbones pretty quick. They’ll see they haven’t gained anything for all their strutting and boasting.
It’s not what a man has to gain that drives him to the wildness; it’s that he has nothing to lose. This is going to be worse before it smells of better. Believe me. A messenger just came in from the First Ward who said there’s a crowd milling around there, and there’s more trouble a-brewing at the armory. I don’t much care if they tackle the Tribune. They’ve got machine guns in the offices to ward them off.
OFFICER MCCLUSKER
In the building? They keep weapons in the newspaper offices?
OFFICER BARNES
Nae, laddie, not on a normal day. But the paper has hired some toughs and some weapons. A bad business all around if you ask me. This is all getting too ugly for words.
EXT. DOWNTOWN NEW YORK—SAME DAY
A CROWD has gathered on a street corner across from the Tribune newspaper offices. We see JOHN ANDREWS (41), a lawyer from Virginia and a Southern sympathizer, stirring up the crowd. ANDREWS is a smallish man with a neat beard. He is standing slightly behind LIAM, but close enough to whisper into LIAM’s ear from time to time. ANDREWS rocks back and forth, sometimes even rising on his toes as he gets more excited.
LIAM
Lincoln is calling up the Irish to die for the darkies. It’s not that I mind the dying if the cause is good. I’ll take my chances along with the next man. I’ll fight shoulder to shoulder to save my family and the scraps I’ve sweated for. At the Union…
ANDREWS
(whispers)
Cooper Union.
LIAM
At Cooper Union, Lincoln said that he was fighting to preserve the Union, but we all know the real reason—to free the darkies so they can come and take what little chance we have to feed our own.
CROWD
You tell ’em! You tell ’em!
(there is general cheering)
(to OLDER IRISH MAN on sidewalk)
Well, they shouldn’t be breaking things up and hurting people no better off than we are.
OLDER IRISH MAN
What?
IRISH WOMAN
I’m saying that the Colored don’t have nothing either.
OLDER IRISH MAN
What?
IRISH WOMAN
Oh, shut up!
LIAM
(looking around, building momentum)
If the swells are so keen to be going to war, let them stop their pretty speeches and put down their silver snuff boxes and march on down to the waterfront themselves. Sure it’s me and Mickey Mud and Paddy Stink will follow right behind with our drums beating and a screeching of the fifes.
LIAM
This war will go on for ten more years. Lincoln knows that. You know that. And it’s all of us they’ll be burying in shallow graves.
CROWD
No! No!
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT of LIAM and MAEVE, who has moved by his side. He is becoming somewhat apprehensive, while she stands with her hands on her hips. This is clearly their moment.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of ANDREWS. He is highly animated, and we see his effect on the crowd as the camera moves slowly around him.
ANDREWS
There’s more that think like us than think like them because there are more of us than there are of the dandies at the Tribune! What I’m saying is when they set the type for the lists of dead soldiers, you can be sure they don’t find their own kin there. You can believe that. We have to organize, boys. Organize!
They’re sitting behind those tall windows, and they’re asking themselves the same questions we should be asking. They’re asking if the workers of New York City are real men, or should we all be uptown on the sheep meadow ready to be marched off to whatever hell they’ve found for us? They are asking the question and we have to give them an answer!
CROWD
Men! We’re men!
And women ready to fight by their side!
The CROWD grows more and more unruly as the camera pulls back. The chanting becomes rhythmic, almost heroic. The camera blurs slowly out of focus.
INT. THE PEACOCK INN—JULY 14, 1863—EARLY MORNING
ELLEN is sitting in the semi-darkness of early morning. JOHN enters the room, putting on his jacket. He stops and looks at his wife.
ELLEN
How much would you laugh if I told you to be careful?
JOHN
I’m being careful. When fools don’t care who they kill, you have to watch yourself. Some of the black men from the mill travel together when they have to get somewhere.
ELLEN
Did you talk to Claire?
JOHN
She’s keeping to herself.
ELLEN
Then we need to be where she is, John. This hasn’t been an easy time for her.
JOHN
(troubled)
Yeah, I know. I know.
JOHN
Who’s liking what they see these days? This is the second day and there’s no telling where it’s going to end. They tore up the Colored Orphan Asylum last night.
ELLEN
God! Where are the children? Priscilla?
JOHN
Safe for now. Some of them are in private homes. Some are up in the Armory. Some in police stations. They’ll have to be moved after a while, but they’re safe for now. There are still decent people in this city. New York is still New York.
CLAIRE enters. She looks from her father to her mother. ELLEN forces a smile.
ELLEN
Morning, love.
CLAIRE
Morning.
JOHN
(calling out)
We’re closed!
LIAM
(from outside)
It’s me! Liam!
JOHN goes to open the door, and LIAM, MAEVE, and ROSIE LYONS (14) enter. LIAM goes to a table and sits heavily. MAEVE turns a chair and straddles it while ROSIE sits across from them.
LIAM
I’ve been in the streets all night, Miss Ellen. It’s getting rough out there. People being knocked around and worse. It’s got my head addled, it has. I need something to eat.
ELLEN
We’re closed until further notice, Liam. You’ll have to be getting your breakfast elsewhere.
JOHN
(sternly)
She said we’re closed, and she meant it.
ROSIE
Is she the one you said was a blackie?
MAEVE
(indicating CLAIRE)
She is. The one in green.
ROSIE
Oh, she’s a cutie.
JOHN
I think it’s time for you to leave, Liam. And take your friends with you.
LIAM
Mr. Johnson, if this all doesn’t come down on the right side, do you think I could be working steady at the Peacock?
JOHN
What’s the right side, Liam?
CLAIRE
(Crosses to LIAM and takes his hand)
You’re always welcome here, Liam. You know that, don’t you?
MAEVE
What is your name again?
CLAIRE
Liam must have told you that it’s Claire.
MAEVE
Well, Miss Claire, don’t be eyeing my Liam. There’s a lot more to me than you’d be knowing, dearie.
CLAIRE
Eyeing Liam? I’m doing nothing of the sort!
ROSIE
I think she’s in love, Maeve. She’s blushing.
LIAM
Come on, I have to get home and get some rest. Get me head together. Bye, Mrs. Johnson. Claire.
MAEVE
(to CLAIRE)
You want to come with us? We’d love to show you off to our friends.
JOHN
I said it’s time for you to leave.
LIAM
We’ll be seeing you later, then.
CLAIRE
Liam, be careful.
LIAM
That’s for sure, Claire. Careful is me middle name.
ROSIE
(as they leave)
If you ask me, she looks more German than Irish.
LIAM, MAEVE, and ROSIE exit.
Never mind that crowd. They don’t even know what they’re doing. I’m headed uptown. Lock the doors after me and stay off the streets.
JOHN exits.
ELLEN
Are you all right, Claire?
CLAIRE
I hate people who don’t even know what they’re doing.
ELLEN
Hate’s a strong word for people you don’t know, Claire.
CLAIRE
That girl hates me because I’m black; I can hate her because she’s white.
ELLEN
Maybe she hates you because Liam has a sparkle in his voice when he talks about you. Now that would be a good reason not to like you. Wouldn’t it?
She crosses to CLAIRE and puts both arms around her.
CLAIRE starts to answer but instead begins to cry softly.
CLAIRE
Liam was just my friend a few days ago. We could laugh together, and I would kid him when he came to make deliveries. Now everything is upside down.
ELLEN
When things get back to normal around here we’ll—
CLAIRE
They’ll never be normal again.
Sobbing, she puts her head down as her whole body shakes.
ELLEN
When things come around—
The door to the Peacock opens.
ELLEN
(cont’d)
We’re closed! We’re closed!
A thin white man, the poet WALT WHITMAN (44), enters, accompanied by FARLEY (11), a black boy, small for his age, whom he has hired to help him on his visit to New York. WHITMAN has been working as a nurse during the Civil War, but is far better known as a journalist and the poet who published Leaves of Grass. He looks much older than his age. He has a slight hesitant manner; he walks unevenly and leans on furniture as he passes.
ELLEN
(to WHITMAN)
I told you we were closed!
WHITMAN
(seeing CLAIRE)
Can I help? I have some experience as a nurse.
ELLEN
No. And we’re closed.
WHITMAN
There’s a covey of angry young men flapping and strutting their way down the street. I need to keep Farley here safe until they pass, and then we’ll be on our way.
ELLEN looks at them cautiously and then goes and locks the door to the Peacock.
WHITMAN
What happened?
ELLEN
A young man who worked for us has joined the rioters. He brought some friends by and they’ve upset my daughter.
CLAIRE
They don’t like me because I’m black.
WHITMAN and FARLEY both turn and look at CLAIRE, who lifts her chin proudly for a second but then turns away.
WHITMAN
Well, I’ve seen them—swaggering through the streets with crowd courage and searching for themselves in the storm they create with their shouts.
He settles at a table.
ELLEN
They’re rioting in the streets. And stealing what they can in the bargain.
WHITMAN
Yes, well, yes. I guess America has finally shaken off the stupor of its promise and its beauty and is asking itself questions it should have answered seventy-five years ago.
ELLEN
Is it charms you’re selling? Bibles? We don’t need charms and we have a Bible.
WHITMAN
I saw them lying on the battlefields and in the hospitals in Washington. Sometimes I would see them holding up little bits of mirrors and staring at the strangers looking out at them. In their hearts they’re asking what America means. They’re groping their wounds and their trauma and searching for meaning to their lives before those lives drip out onto the rich Southern soil or in some obscure cow pasture.
CLAIRE
And who do you pretend to be?
Pretend? Har! A good question. I am Walt Whitman, newspaper reporter, sometimes nurse, sometimes great poet, sometimes an even greater drunk. And this is my man Farley, who keeps my room clean up at the Hotel Albert when I am out of town. Farley is eleven years old and passes as a fair philosopher. Am I right, Farley?
FARLEY
Yes, sir.
ELLEN
Well, if there’s a thought in that crowd out there it’s running between their legs, not dancing in their heads. That’s for sure. They’re chasing black people in the streets. They hanged a man on Baxter Street.
WHITMAN
Could I trouble you for a cup of tea?
ELLEN
(pours the tea)
Against my better judgment.
WHITMAN drinks from the cup and nods appreciatively.
And if their lives have no meaning, they pray that maybe the color of their skins hold some vestige of a higher truth.
FARLEY
Did you see the way they was looking at me? And I don’t even know them, I don’t.
CLAIRE
They’re the ones who should have been hanged.
ELLEN
My husband thinks they’ll get tired of this violence soon enough.
WHITMAN
It’ll be done when America at last defines itself, by what she sees in her collective mirrors and not by what she sees in her imagined world of snow white angels floating among the clouds of our lofty ideals. Until then, we’ll all be in the streets looking for where we belong.
ELLEN
And if that makes a bit of sense, I’m a three-eyed bullfrog!
There’s a pounding on the door and several shouts of rioters looking for drinks. The pounding continues for a long moment as the group inside is still, then stops as the rioters move on.
ELLEN
(cont’d)
What do you know about violence? I can’t see you as a soldier.
FARLEY
He was in Washington.
WHITMAN
And on the battlefields of Virginia. Treating the wounded of this terrible war. Holding the hands of better men than me and stronger boys as they waited to die. Keeping my sanity by not trying to make sense of it.
CLAIRE
None of this is right. Why should anybody hate me because I’m black?
FARLEY
You don’t look black to me.
ELLEN
I think the rowdies have passed. Perhaps you should go now.
Farley, the lady wants us to leave because you are black and therefore a danger and I am a man with too many words for so small an establishment. So we will go, and try to keep our hind parts—yours black and mine not capable of a decent defense—off the winding streets of my beloved city.
FARLEY
(to CLAIRE)
How you know you black? You don’t look black to me.
CLAIRE
I look black to me, Mr. Farley. I know what I am and who I am and that’s all that matters.
WHITMAN
And there you have the whole fish, Farley. Head, gills, and tail. With that much wisdom, we can upstream a-breeding go.
CLAIRE
Fish? Is that supposed to make sense? I have no idea what that means, and I don’t want to know.
WHITMAN laughs as he and FARLEY exit.
ELLEN
(locking the front door of the Peacock)
Maybe your father is right. Maybe they’ll just grow tired of this running about and go home.
(hesitates)
I’m thinking maybe we should take turns looking out of the upstairs window in case anyone comes looking for trouble. We’d see them from a distance and be ready for them. What do you think? Though if only one or two came, we’d beat whatever brains they had in their heads till they weren’t more than a pot of mushy peas, wouldn’t we?
(comes closer to her daughter)
Is that a bit of a smile on your lips? Is it worth sharing?
CLAIRE
(in her best Irish brogue)
Ay, and it’s happy I am to have a mum such as yourself.
The two embrace briefly, and ELLEN pats CLAIRE on the shoulder.
ELLEN
Ay, and it’s happy I am to have a daughter sweet as you. I’ll take a peek through the curtains.
ELLEN exits.
CLAIRE goes to the door and slides her fingers slowly along the black cast-iron bolt. She pushes the bolt open, then quickly closes it. We see a CLOSE-UP of her fingers nervously drumming against the heavy door.
CLAIRE
(voice-over)
Maybe it’s me who should be out there trying to find myself. Trying to discover who I am instead of hiding behind this door wondering who will find me and wondering what they will call me. I am afraid—not that they will hurt me but that they will discover who I am before I do. It would be better if they just hurt me, if they knocked me down in the street. Then I would just be me again, hurting and annoyed and even angry. But here, standing against this door, wondering what is happening on the other side…I am nobody.
We see her fingers again slide the lock open and shut.
When they tell me that they are chasing black people in the street, I don’t know what to feel. I am angry that anyone is being chased, but do I know what it means to be black? When that girl looked at me, it was with such contempt. A week ago she couldn’t have hurt me. Now just the thought of her coming back fills me with terror. It’s as if she has found who she is and can look right through me and know that I am lost.
Again she fingers the lock. The camera moves to the stairway.
ELLEN
(calling from upstairs)
Claire? Did you have anything for breakfast? Claire? Claire!
EXT. MADISON SQUARE PARK—SAME DAY
We see rows of tents, a few small fires, and groups of SOLDIERS in small knots.
CUT TO:
Three privates, KELLY (25), PARKER (24), and LANCASTER (17). KELLY and PARKER are both unshaven and have the look of men who have been in combat too long. LANCASTER looks (and is) too young to be in the army. His uniform hangs loosely on him. He stands while the other two soldiers sit. We see KELLY searching through his equipment bag, then walk away.
PARKER
He’s got his mad on, but this has got to be better than facing Johnny Reb.
He is poking a small fire they have started, in which he has placed his canteen cup to make hot water for tea.
LANCASTER
I don’t even know what this is about.
PARKER
About the draft. Something about the draft. These people don’t want to enjoy the pleasures of marching in the sun.
LANCASTER
I heard the rebs had to kill a bunch of people to get them to report for duty.
PARKER
Captain said some of these people have guns. Gotta be careful. A fool can kill you just as quick as a sniper. Gotta be careful.
LANCASTER
You had anything to eat? I’m starving.
PARKER
There’s some eggs in that crate. They say don’t suck them raw, but that’s what I’ve been doing. You can boil them over the fire if you got a mind to. Don’t boil them too long or they’re get hard. I can’t stand no hard eggs.
LANCASTER
Back home I used to suck them raw all the time. Go down to the henhouse and move an old fat biddy off her nest. I never figured out if they really cared or not. My ma didn’t like it none, wanted me to sit around the table with my brother and daddy for breakfast. But my daddy never had nothing to say that wasn’t grinding against the ear. Complainingest man I’ve ever known.
PARKER
That why you joined up? I thought you just liked the pretty brass buttons.
Look at this one watching us. You figure she’s a spy or something?
The camera moves, and we see CLAIRE standing next to a tree, about twenty feet from the soldiers.
PARKER
(calling to CLAIRE)
Come on over, darling. We won’t bite you.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of CLAIRE, who looks apprehensive, then forces a smile. Return to MAIN SHOT.
PARKER
Lank here thinks you’re a spy.
We see CLAIRE take a step back, then walk slowly toward the soldiers.
PARKER
Morning!
CLAIRE
Morning.
PARKER
We’re just here debating whether or not Lank is going to die from eating raw eggs. He says he won’t, but I say he might. What do you say?
CLAIRE looks from man to man but doesn’t speak.
LANCASTER
I done ate raw eggs before, and there’s nothing to it.
CLAIRE
If you have a pan, I can cook them for you.
LANCASTER
We got a pan.
PARKER
Lank, you liable to come out this war a man yet.
(taking loose tobacco and cigarette paper out of his pocket)
Got a woman cooking his breakfast! Miss, don’t let his head get too close to your dress or it’ll get all wet. He ain’t got water on the brain; he’s just a little wet behind the ears!
LANCASTER
Parker, you’re a crazy man.
(to himself as he heads off)
Ain’t but two months out of his diapers and he’s got a woman cooking his breakfast!
CLAIRE and LANCASTER stand awkwardly, a few feet apart. Then LANCASTER realizes what she is waiting for and rummages through his bag. He produces a small skillet and lays out the eggs, a piece of fatback, and a heel of bread.
CLAIRE looks at the skillet closely, then takes LANCASTER’s canteen, pours water from it into the pan, and wipes it out with the kerchief she takes from her waist. She puts the skillet on the fire. After a few seconds, the remaining water sizzles off.
CLAIRE
You have a knife?
LANCASTER
(a bit cautiously)
Yeah.
He gives her the knife and watches as she cuts off a piece of the fatback and puts it in the pan.
LANCASTER
You got a name?
LANCASTER
Get out of here!
CLAIRE
Claire.
LANCASTER
I’m Josh. Josh Lancaster. They call me Lank, but you can call me Josh. Or Lank. It don’t matter.
We are watching CLAIRE cook the eggs and fatback.
CLAIRE
How old are you?
LANCASTER
Almost eighteen.
CLAIRE looks up at him quickly, realizing that he is only a couple of years older than she is.
CLAIRE
How long have you been in the army?
CLAIRE
Were you at Gettysburg? I read about the battle there.
LANCASTER
You read? One day, when this war is all over, I’m going back to school. Learn reading and writing. Maybe geography. Been a lot of places, so I got a leg up on geography. I wasn’t at Gettysburg. Met a fellow who was there who read us a paper on it. He said it wasn’t nothing like it happened, though.
CLAIRE
You have a plate?
LANCASTER
No, miss.
He takes the skillet from CLAIRE and attacks the breakfast.
CLAIRE
(stands as LANCASTER kneels)
How was it different?
(between mouthfuls)
He said it was mostly just sitting around and waiting for something to happen. Then there was a bunch of rebs charging through a cornfield and yelling. That’s what them rebs do best. The rebs charged and got beat back pretty good.
CLAIRE
Have you ever killed anybody?
LANCASTER
Don’t know really. You shoot and you hope for the best.
CLAIRE
Scared?
LANCASTER
Me? No, miss. Maybe…maybe a little. Yes, miss, I was scared some. It wasn’t the dying that scared me. It was the wounded laying out in the field calling out for their mamas. That’s a bad sound. That’s a real bad sound. Goes through you like a cold wind. You can’t relax after you hear a man calling out, knowing he’s…you know…not going to make it.
We had a man come into our hotel. My family has a hotel. He said he was a nurse. He said he had watched a lot of men die.
LANCASTER
I guess if your number is up…. How good you read and write?
CLAIRE
Real good. Very good.
LANCASTER
(looks around)
I got a pencil and paper. You think you can write a letter for me?
CLAIRE
Yeah.
The camera pulls back, and we see LANCASTER give CLAIRE a pencil and paper. He has put the skillet down and stands leaning on his rifle as he dictates the letter to CLAIRE.
We hear LANCASTER’s voice, young and a bit shaky, as he dictates the letter.
(voice-over)
Dear Mother,
I am doing well and hope this letter finds you and the family safe and sound. Please tell Uncle Phil that I saw a hog in Virginia that was nearly a tall as his mule and was just as mean. They don’t have much for crops in Virginia except tobacco and some measly wheat, which I don’t think they could sell on the fourth of December, let alone the Fourth of July!
I am sorry to say that Michael Hansen, who asked about our cousin Susan, was wounded in the left shoulder. It didn’t look like much and he was in good spirits but died anyway. I suspect his dying surprised him as much as it surprised me.
I certainly miss Wisconsin and being home and with you, Pa, Thomas, and Grandma Ellie. I love you all very much and want you to know that as a fact. This letter is being written by a young woman from New York City, and I will carry it with me for the rest of the war and hope to bring it home to you.
Your loving son,
Joshua
LANCASTER
Thank you, miss.
CLAIRE
(looking for something to say)
You…like being in the army?
LANCASTER
I did before I got into fighting. Then there ain’t nothing to like except feeling yourself alive when it’s done.
We see SOLDIERS forming up in the background.
CLAIRE
Why did you join?
LANCASTER
A man has to stand up for what he believes in. I believe in God and my country and in all people being free.
CLAIRE
Even black people?
CLAIRE
(turns to face LANCASTER)
I’m black.
LANCASTER folds the letter and carefully puts it into his vest. He looks up at CLAIRE, who is waiting for a reaction.
LANCASTER
Thank you for the eggs, miss. And for the letter.
PARKER returns.
PARKER
Let’s go, Lank. They’re forming up.
We see LANCASTER and PARKER forming up with their company.
LONG SHOT: The SOLDIERS begin to march, not too smartly, out of Madison Square Park, headed downtown. We see LANCASTER turn and look toward where CLAIRE still stands. She waves. He touches his chest where the letter is tucked.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of CLAIRE watching the SOLDIERS. Then we see her walk out of the park. She is lost in her thoughts as she, too, heads downtown. Her step is light, almost jaunty. She stops as she passes a store window to look at herself and straighten her blouse before continuing.
EXT. A STREET NEAR THE PEACOCK INN—SAME DAY
A group of very YOUNG WHITE BOYS is taunting a crippled BLACK MAN on one crutch as two STREET TOUGHS watch. The BLACK MAN turns, stumbling, as the TEENAGERS throw rocks at him.
CUT TO:
A plump WHITE WOMAN watching the scene, eyes wide and her hand over her mouth as she wonders what is going to happen.
CUT TO:
A window above the street. A SMALL BLACK BOY looks down onto the street, his fingers anxiously twisting the curtain, which half obscures his face.
CUT TO:
CLAIRE rounding the corner of a building. She sees the taunting and stops in her tracks. For a moment she frowns. Then she takes a deep breath and starts to move forward.
CUT TO:
From CLAIRE’s POV: The BOYS are beating the MAN up, kicking him when he falls and throwing rocks at him.
CLAIRE
(softly)
Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
Suddenly a hand appears over CLAIRE’s eyes, and she is jerked back violently.
CLAIRE
(in a panic)
Oh! Oh!
CLAIRE is spun around and flattened against the building. She is face-to-face with a smirking MAEVE. BILLY EVANS stands next to her.
MAEVE
Ho there, little blackie! Shall I go call the boys over so you can deliver your pretty speeches to them, eh? Shall I call them over, blackie?
CLAIRE’s terrified face. She starts to slide down the building away from MAEVE.
MAEVE
Cat got your tongue, blackie? Is that it? Cat got your tongue now that you’re away from your father?
MAEVE moves in front of CLAIRE and smacks her lightly.
MAEVE
(cont’d)
Billy, why don’t you give her a smack?
Full of bravado, BILLY puts the heel of his hand in CLAIRE’s face. Suddenly CLAIRE strikes out blindly, hitting MAEVE, who stumbles backward into the cobblestone street.
MAEVE
You little…
She touches her face as BILLY EVANS starts to kick at CLAIRE. CLAIRE pushes him in the chest, and he falls into MAEVE as she starts to get up.
MEDIUM SHOT: We see CLAIRE running down the street. MAEVE and BILLY follow for a few steps, then stop. We see CLAIRE fall, get up, and continue running toward the Peacock as the screen darkens.
INT. THE PEACOCK INN—SAME DAY
JOHN is near the door to the kitchen. ELLEN is across from him, holding a towel in her hands.
JOHN
(shouting angrily)
Where is she?
ELLEN
I don’t know! She was here in the dining room when I went upstairs, and when I called—
JOHN
How long has she been out?
ELLEN
(sobbing)
I don’t know. Most of the morning.
ELLEN
She didn’t say anything. I know she was upset and I tried to calm her down. I was trying to think of something for us to do together, to get her mind off of this, and—
There’s a banging on the door, and JOHN runs quickly to it and flings it open. ROBERT VAN VOORST and GRIFFIN (15) enter. GRIFFIN is black, short but sturdily built. His roundish face makes him look somewhat younger than he is.
JOHN
Have either of you seen Claire?
GRIFFIN
No. Ain’t she here?
JOHN
Would I ask where she is if she was here? I’m asking—
ELLEN
John!
(calming himself)
Okay. Okay. She went out this morning and—right now we don’t know where she is.
GRIFFIN
Some of the boys are thinking about getting together and facing these gangs, Mr. Johnson. I just come by to see if you want to join us.
ROBERT
I’ve been thinking the same thing.
He produces a gun.
ELLEN
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Are you out of your fool heads?
GRIFFIN
Ma’am, we can’t let these people just run around and beat us up and hang us. They just hanged another black man on the East Side.
JOHN
Robert, put that damned thing away. They got the army and the police out there. We don’t need to give them a reason to be shooting at us.
The door opens, and CLAIRE enters. The front of her dress is covered with dirt, and her hair sticks to her face.
ELLEN
Claire!
JOHN
What happened? Are you okay?
CLAIRE
(tearfully)
Did you notice I wasn’t human anymore? That all I am is black? Did you know that?
JOHN
Baby, you’re young. Right now all you need to be is safe. Then we’ll figure this all out.
ROBERT
Have you seen Priscilla?
CLAIRE
No, they’ve taken the children from the orphanage and hidden them around the city. She’s probably with them.
CLAIRE
Pushed me down. Laughed at me. Nothing that won’t heal.
GRIFFIN
We need to get some revenge, Mr. Johnson. We need to show them we can’t be pushed around so easy.
CLAIRE
Who’s the “them” we going to go get, Griffin? Who’s the “them” we’re going to get revenge on? The same people we were laughing with yesterday? How are they different today?
GRIFFIN
They weren’t beating up black people yesterday, Miss Claire. I think we should go over to Jersey City and get some of those black people just up from down South. I hear there’s a bunch of them just waiting for some action.
ELLEN
(brings CLAIRE to a table and sits her down)
Griffin, if you could carry water the same way you carry rumors, with not a vessel to carry them in, you’d be a well. (to CLAIRE) Do you need a doctor?
CLAIRE
No.
ROBERT
It’s a dueling pistol, Mr. Johnson. English.
JOHN
Robert, shut up. You need to get your little white butt home.
ROBERT
Sir, I’m looking for Priscilla.
JOHN
Boy, leave the gun here before you hurt yourself with it. I’ll get it back to your father. You get out of here, walk down the middle of the street, and go right home. And don’t leave your house until your father gives you permission.
ELLEN
Until your mother gives you permission. Now scoot!
ROBERT looks around the room. When his eyes meet CLAIRE’s, the two smile and CLAIRE throws him a kiss.
CLAIRE
When I see Priscilla, I’ll tell her you were looking for her.
ROBERT takes a deep breath, then leaves.
ELLEN
Claire, do you want tea?
CLAIRE
No. I want to sit here and be very angry. I want to hate everybody and everything.
GRIFFIN
I know how she feels, Mr. Johnson. But if I got to die, I’m dying like a man.
ELLEN
What we have to do—what we have to do is to keep ourselves safe until this thing is over. Then we’ll sit down as a family—
CLAIRE
If it’s my skin that makes me unsafe, can I take it off and put it in a drawer until the streets are calm again? If it’s my skin that puts me in the sights of murderers, can I change it the way I would change my dress or my apron? Where is this “safe” you’re talking about? And if I’m black and you’re white and that makes me a target, where is this “family” you’re talking about? Where is it, Mum? Where is it?
There’s a knock on the door.
JOHN
Griffin, sit over there, and keep your mouth shut.
GRIFFIN sits down and puts the gun under the table. JOHN opens the door and sees CHARLES HICKEY, a tall, beefy patrolman.
HICKEY
Hey, John, glad to find you in. How you doing?
JOHN
Hickey, what you doing out here? I thought you left the force and bought a warehouse?
HICKEY
(sits)
Bought it and working it part-time, John. I figure to work it like this for a year and then quit the force.
ELLEN
You being careful out there?
HICKEY
I’m trying to be, Mrs. Johnson. Between the soldiers showing up and the gangs running around I’m as nervous as a country rat at a cat party. If John don’t want to come with me, I can understand it.
JOHN
Come for what?
HICKEY
I understand you know a lot of the boatmen down at the piers.
JOHN
Yeah, I know most of them. The black ones, anyway.
HICKEY
We want to get the children from the orphanage out of the city. Take them out to Blackwell’s Island. We have a dozen soldiers and half that many police officers to guard them, but we need somebody that the boatmen trust. We can’t spare the men to guard them night and day. We’ll try to get some of the kids out today and some later on.
ELLEN
John, you can’t go out there—
JOHN
You’re going to have to find someone else.
I got things I got to…
(looks toward CLAIRE)
You say we’ll have an escort to the waterside?
HICKEY
A dozen good men. We just need someone to deal with the boatmen.
JOHN
Okay, I’ll go.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of ELLEN’s distraught face. We see her mouth a vehement No! but no sound is heard. The camera stays on ELLEN’s face.
HICKEY
If we’re going to get the children away, we need to do it now.
HICKEY
Yes, ma’am. I understand what’s going on. And I know who John is and what he stands for. He doesn’t have to go if he doesn’t want to, but I’m duty bound to ask him.
JOHN
Yeah, I got to go. This is a chance to get the children to safety.
(glances toward Claire)
And we need to take that chance. I know my way around this city.
ELLEN
(breathing deeply)
John…
JOHN
(picking up his vest)
Honey, I’ve got to go. Those children need to be in a safe place. They’ll attack the children just to get the police away from the stores. I’ll be okay. Claire, you come with me.
JOHN
(sternly)
You come with me, girl. Hickey, give us a minute.
HICKEY takes a look around and then steps outside.
CLAIRE
I’m not a child, Father. I’m not a child! You need to help the children. I need to stay here with Mother.
JOHN
(looks toward ELLEN)
Girl, things might go well, and then again they might not. I might need all the help I can to get those children safe on board.
ELLEN
I’ll go with you!
JOHN
No, you stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Make sure the doors are locked, and don’t open them for anyone you don’t know. Griffin, you get your boys down to the waterfront in case there’s any trouble. Don’t do nothing I don’t tell you to do. You got that?
GRIFFIN
I got it, Mr. Johnson.
JOHN, GRIFFIN, and CLAIRE exit.
We see ELLEN’s hands tremble as she locks the door. She leans against the door and the camera cuts to her face. We see her lips moving and see her making the sign of the cross as she prays.
EXT. ST. MARKS PLACE—SAME DAY
A CROWD of young men and women is standing on the corner and taunting a group of SOLDIERS nearly a block away. The SOLDIERS are setting up a Gatling gun in the middle of the street. The camera switches from one group to another. The SOLDIERS are lean, battle-hardened men and seem particularly grim. The camera moves in on three young people, KELLY, MARY POOLE, and JOHNNY. KELLY is about nineteen, and the other two fifteen.
KELLY
They’re not facing a bunch of barefoot rebels now, boys. We can show them something to remember.
IAN
I got a bad feeling about this. This morning, me mum was praying and her rosary beads broke. It never happened before and she was saying I should stay home.
MARY POOLE
The soldiers wouldn’t shoot at us. Not right at us, they wouldn’t.
KELLY
Ian, you got to become a man sometime in your life. You can’t be a blinkin’ boy forever.
JOHNNY
I’m not running, Kelly. All I’m saying is that I got a bad feeling about this.
MARY POOLE
I think it’s going to be all right, Ian. I do. I’m scared, but I think it’s going to be all right.
CUT TO:
The SOLDIERS, led by CAPTAIN ROBERTS. He is unshaven, and there is a look of weariness about his eyes.
We had two men hurt this morning. They’re throwing rocks and bottles, and I hear that some muskets were taken from the armory. They’re dancing in the streets as if this was some bloody game.
CUT TO:
LONG SHOT of the opposing groups. The CROWD is beginning to pick up speed down the street. The SOLDIERS almost nonchalantly raise their weapons.
CROWD
(voice-over)
They’re shooting to kill!
Oh, sweet Jesus! My leg’s on fire!
Get down! Get down!
CUT TO:
PRIVATE LANCASTER as he reloads his rifle. He glances down the street and sees the mangled bodies from a distance. The camera blurs slightly, and it might be that LANCASTER is crying. We see him touch the front of his jacket where he is keeping the letter CLAIRE wrote for him. We see him raise the rifle again.
Finally we hear the sound of the heavy breathing again, and then that, too, subsides as we begin to FADE OUT.
BLACK OUT as we hear another deafening volley.
INT. A DILAPIDATED TENEMENT BUILDING—SAME DAY
There is debris on the floor, and the curtains are torn. In one corner there is a small potbellied stove on which there sits a kettle. We see an OLD IRISH WOMAN sitting near the stove with a cup of tea in her hands. There is an OLD MAN standing near the window. His hand shakes as he peers through the yellowed curtains.
OLD IRISH WOMAN
What’s left after the young men fall? When the young fall, there’s no hope for the old ones. There’s faith and family and not a whit more to fill the belly or turn away the cold on a winter night. And the saints, God bless them all, what are they doing? Having tea with the swells or a sour pint with the likes of Mickey Mud? I don’t know. For all my faith in the Almighty, I don’t know. What’s left after the young men fall?
The OLD MAN nods silently.
LONG SHOT: There are a few people in the street below. From the distance we can’t tell whether they are young or old, rioters or innocent victims. But we see them move cautiously down the street, clearly afraid of what is happening.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
EXT. THE WATERFRONT—SAME DAY
The CHILDREN from the Colored Orphan Asylum are lined up, fairly orderly and holding hands. A YOUNG BLACK MAN is leaning casually against a piling. Under his jacket we see a glimpse of a club.
CUT TO:
A BLACK TEENAGER sitting on the edge of the pier, next to a large cloth bag from which a stout stick protrudes.
CUT TO:
The face of a six-year-old BLACK GIRL. Her eyes are wide, and there are tears on her face. We see that she is holding someone’s hand. As the camera moves back, we see that it is PRISCILLA’s.
The first CHILDREN being passed into a small boat. They have pulled up along the pier next to the Hoboken ferry. The CHILDREN are being put quickly into the smaller boats. Two female ATTENDANTS from the home—one white, the other black—shelter the CHILDREN from the spray of water rising from the boats’ engines.
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT: JOHN stands face-to-face with CLAIRE. He seems huge as he faces his daughter.
JOHN
(pleading)
Claire, don’t fight me on this. Please! I need you to be safe. And yes, I know you’re not a child.
CLAIRE
Then why are sending me off with the children? Why?
JOHN
It’s for my sake. I need not to worry about you.
POLICEMAN
(not realizing that JOHN and CLAIRE are related)
You need help, miss?
JOHN
The very moment things have settled down, the very moment…
CLAIRE
Father.
JOHN turns CLAIRE and pushes her to the boat where the white woman ATTENDANT takes her.
JOHN
(calling)
I love you!
JOHN, on the verge of tears, looks over the water, then a group of SOLDIERS passes in front of him. JOHN moves down the pier, checking the other boats. Some of the CHILDREN in the boats are anxious; some are playing. JOHN nods to an older, white-haired BOATMAN, then the boats begin to pull away. JOHN watches the boats pulling away.
CUT TO:
MARGARET ADDAMS (32), a white matron at the Colored Orphan Asylum. She is watching the last of the CHILDREN board the boats. Next to her is PRISCILLA, and just beyond them, in the prow of a boat, we see CLAIRE.
MARGARET ADDAMS
Priscilla, get in. You’ll be safe with us.
PRISCILLA
I’m not going. I have to see about my great-aunt. She’s lame and she lives in Broadway Alley.
MARGARET ADDAMS
Well, you can’t do that! You won’t be safe on the streets, and we’ll need you on the island to get things—Priscilla!
PRISCILLA turns on her heel and strides purposefully away.
CUT TO:
CLAIRE sees PRISCILLA on the shore. We see a CLOSE-UP of CLAIRE’s face as her eyes widen. We see CLAIRE look around quickly, and then push her way through the crowd. We see her jump to the ladder, scrambling desperately not to fall into the water as the boat pulls away.
CUT TO:
JOHN, thinking that all of the children plus CLAIRE are on the boats, gives a hand signal.
GRIFFIN, who stands and throws the bag he is carrying casually across his shoulder as he walks away from the waterfront.
CUT TO:
TWO BLACK TEENAGERS, who are leaning against a shed on the pier. They see GRIFFIN and follow him casually. We see that one of them is carrying an ax handle.
CUT TO:
JOHN as he peers anxiously at the boats. He is shielding his eyes from the late-afternoon sun, and his brow shows concern as he doesn’t see CLAIRE.
CUT TO:
LONG SHOT of CLAIRE on the pier. She looks around and sees JOHN looking for her.
CUT TO:
JOHN. He is looking for CLAIRE and thinks he sees her, but his vision is blocked by the SOLDIERS headed away from the pier.
CUT TO:
CLAIRE, who ducks down and walks alongside the SOLDIERS until she is off the pier.
PRISCILLA going west on Morris Street toward Broadway. She keeps stopping and turning around as people pass her. She is clearly afraid but moves on. We see a figure coming up behind her. It is CLAIRE.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP: PRISCILLA sees CLAIRE and stops as her friend catches up with her.
PRISCILLA
What are you doing here? I saw you on the boat.
CLAIRE
What are you doing here? Where are you going?
PRISCILLA
I’m going up to Broadway Alley to see about my great-aunt. She’s so old and…fragile. I’ve been trying not to think about her. Is that terrible?
CLAIRE
There are a lot of things I’ve been trying not to think about, Priscilla. I’ll go with you.
CLAIRE
Too dangerous for me? You’re the one that’s—
PRISCILLA
Black?
A beat as both girls assess their position.
CLAIRE
Priscilla, it’s dangerous out here for both of us.
PRISCILLA
(turning away)
She’s my aunt—I have to go. You go home.
CLAIRE
(hurt, on the verge of tears)
Then go!
PRISCILLA
All right, come along. But don’t get in my way.
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT: We see the two girls hurry along Morris Street and then turn the corner at Broadway.
CLAIRE
I think things might be calming down a bit now that the soldiers are on the streets.
PRISCILLA
Claire!
We see a young BLACK MAN running out of Rector Street. He is being chased by a group of white RIOTERS. He is fairly young and runs well, with most of the rocks and sticks thrown at him missing him.
PRISCILLA reaches out and stops CLAIRE.
PRISCILLA
Lord, when will it all end?
The camera pans down the street, and we see a knot of SOLDIERS watching the whole affair. None of them moves.
Then we are back on PRISCILLA and CLAIRE and see them turn and face each other as the RIOTERS, mostly young men, pass them. The young men stop when they see the SOLDIERS. One or two of them begin to throw rocks at the SOLDIERS.
A rock skips along the cobblestoned street and bounces at the foot of a SOLDIER. Another rock hits the side of a building and ricochets against a knapsack.
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT: We see the SOLDIERS back away a few feet. One rubs his palm on the stock of his rifle. Another fixes his bayonet. Yet another begins to unbutton his jacket. It is clear that they are ready to respond. The RIOTERS sense this and move away uptown, grumbling.
EXT. BROADWAY ALLEY—SAME DAY
Broadway Alley is a narrow, unpaved street, barely twelve feet across, running between Twenty-sixth and Twenty-seventh Streets just west of Third Avenue. On the uptown end, there are poorly kept stables from which there is a constant stench. There is smoke coming from the windows of the west side of the alley. A BLACK MAN is passing clothing through an open window to a FRIEND. Both men are wary. The camera moves cautiously down the alley.
RIOTER
(from off-camera)
More darkies!
The MAN inside the window jumps out in a single move, and both MEN run toward the stables. They are chased by a group of RIOTERS. One of the BLACK MEN is hit in the back with a stick, but the assailant falls, tripping his laughing companions.
The attackers are bizarrely dressed, in regular clothing and some looted clothing, especially outlandish hats. They stop to see what the two black men were carrying out and pick up a Bible, which one shoves into his pants. The RIOTERS move out of the alley and saunter aimlessly down the street toward Third Avenue.
Two figures come into the alley from the Twenty-seventh Street side, and we recognize PRISCILLA and CLAIRE. As they come through the alley, a teenage BLACK GIRL climbs out of the same window that the BLACK MAN left moments before. The GIRL, startled by the presence of the two women, freezes.
BLACK GIRL
I don’t have anything! Please don’t hurt me!
PRISCILLA
We’re not here to hurt you. Do you know my aunt? Her name is Esther.
BLACK GIRL
(obviously frightened)
She’s all right. She’s fine.
(points to a door opening)
She lives there, on the left side.
PRISCILLA and CLAIRE start toward the door as the BLACK GIRL leaves quickly.
PRISCILLA and CLAIRE enter an incredibly shabby room. CLAIRE instinctively covers her nose and mouth with her hand but still almost gags on the stench. There is a figure on the bed that we take to be PRISCILLA’s great-aunt. PRISCILLA moves quickly to the bed and starts to speak as she touches the old woman’s shoulder.
PRISCILLA
Aunt Esther! It’s me, Priscilla. We’ll take you to a safe…place….
CLOSE-UP to MEDIUM SHOT to CLOSE-UP from behind as PRISCILLA realizes that the old woman is dead. PRISCILLA shrinks away, her hands over her face.
MEDIUM SHOT: CLAIRE goes to PRISCILLA and pulls her away.
CLAIRE
Are you sure?
PRISCILLA
Oooh. Claire, she’s cold. Oh, my God.
CLAIRE
Let’s…Priscilla, let’s leave now.
As PRISCILLA and CLAIRE are leaving the apartment, CLAIRE turns and takes one more look around at the condition of the room, knowing that it was never in much better condition. She is still covering her nose and mouth with her hand as they move out into the alley.
EXT. BROADWAY—SAME DAY
CLAIRE and PRISCILLA are walking downtown rapidly toward the camera. As they pass Nineteenth Street, they see a CROWD of young whites milling about. They stop to survey the situation.
CUT TO:
A BLACK WOMAN and her CHILD come down the street, followed by some very small white children. The WOMAN, holding the CHILD by the hand, turns back and starts in the other direction but is cut off. A WHITE WOMAN pushes her down roughly.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP face of the BLACK CHILD. He is terrified.
VOICE-OVER: What are you doing? Have you lost your minds?
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT of CAITLIN DONAHUE, 16, 5’2” with red hair and green eyes. We see her throw both arms around the black child.
CAITLIN DONAHUE
Have you lost your minds for sure? Does it make you proud to be throwing your weight at a little child? Do you have no shame in you?
MEDIUM SHOT: We see the other women look away. Then one helps the BLACK WOMAN up.
CUT TO:
CAITLIN DONAHUE puts the child’s hand in that of the mother.
The camera seems to dart around as small groups of whites are moving onto Broadway, where CLAIRE and PRISCILLA have stopped.
We hear he sound of a heartbeat as CLAIRE becomes more and more anxious about their position.
CLAIRE
Let’s get off Broadway. We’ll go west.
A CROWD is gathering on one side of Broadway.
PRISCILLA and CLAIRE are walking on the opposite side of the street from the CROWD, arm in arm, heads down.
We see the sidewalk from CLAIRE’s POV, and then the legs of a person in their way as we hear the impact of the light collision.
CLAIRE
Oh, I’m sorry!
The camera pans up on MAEVE’s face.
Oh, and what do we have here? The lovelies out and about the streets of New York! Out seeing the sights, are you?
PRISCILLA
We’re on our way home. You’re in our way, so if you would just step aside…
MAEVE pushes up on PRISCILLA.
PRISCILLA freezes for a moment and then attempts to step around MAEVE, who pushes her against the steps of a brownstone. MAEVE steps back and calls to her friends in the crowd.
MAEVE
Hey, look what we’ve got over here!
LIAM calls over.
LIAM
They’ve broken into Goodman’s! Let’s get over there!
MAEVE
(to CLAIRE)
I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to show your face, dearie. You having a good time, are you?
LIAM
Maeve, it’s Goodman’s. Let’s go.
He starts to back away, anxious to get on with the looting.
MAEVE
Liam, this is the darky lover who said I wasn’t good enough to work in her place.
LIAM looks and recognizes PRISCILLA and CLAIRE
LIAM
(takes CLAIRE’s face in his hands)
Claire, you can’t be on the street. It’s not safe out here for anybody. It’s not, I’m telling you. Go home and stay there till this is over.
MAEVE
(stunned)
Are you sweet on her? Are you sweet on her? Liam, I’m your…Liam, she’s…black.
Liam starts off, hoping Maeve will follow.
MAEVE watches him go and then turns back to CLAIRE.
CUT TO:
MAEVE watches CLAIRE go off, her face confused and angry, and then she runs off after LIAM.
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT: PRISCILLA and CLAIRE run down the street as the RIOTERS are headed the other way, toward Goodman’s.
We hear the sound of heavy breathing as we follow PRISCILLA and CLAIRE down a city block and around a corner. Finally PRISCILLA stumbles against the fence of a small churchyard.
PRISCILLA
(panting)
They won’t be happy until they kill us all.
CLAIRE
(mouth open, partially bent over)
God, I can’t believe that only a week ago I was just Claire. Now what am I?
CLAIRE
I don’t know. I don’t know.
PRISCILLA
Are you all right?
CLAIRE
No.
A BLACK MALE VOICE
(from off-camera)
If you’re scared, children, you’re welcome here.
PRISCILLA and CLAIRE are both startled. They look up to see a black man in a preacher’s garb.
REVEREND
I’m Reverend Curry. Our church is always open for anyone who needs refuge.
CUT TO:
The front of a black Baptist church. An OLDER MAN stands in the doorway at the top of some steps.
PRISCILLA and CLAIRE hesitate for a moment, then quickly go to the church and up the steps. Several YOUNGER MEN are standing near the door. One of them has a rifle, and another has a pistol.
REVEREND CURRY
(nods toward the armed men)
(to PRISCILLA and CLAIRE as he enters the church with them)
“He that hath no sword, let him sell his garment, and buy one.” Now may not be the time to turn the other cheek.
The camera pans the interior of the church. It is dark except for the late-afternoon light coming through the stained-glass windows and a few candles. There are shadowy figures, and we see BLACK PEOPLE in small groups. Some are praying.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP: CLAIRE is wide-eyed as she looks around the church. We hear a BLACK WOMAN singing; she is joined in a rich but subdued harmony of earnest voices.
SINGERS
(from off-camera)
You hear the lambs a-crying,
Hear the lambs a-crying,
Oh, shepherd, feed-a my sheep.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP: A BLACK WOMAN, one of the singers, heavy in her shoulders and bosom, caught up in the passion of the song, and of the moment.
SINGERS
(cont’d)
I don’t know what you stay here for,
Don’t know what you stay here for,
Don’t know what you stay here for,
Oh, shepherd, feed-a my sheep.
Our Savior spoke these words so sweet:
“Oh, shepherd, feed-a my sheep.”
Said, “Peter, if you love me, feed my sheep.”
Oh, shepherd, feed-a my sheep.
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT: We see the involvement of the entire church, the light subdued, candles away from the windows, sweat gleaming from black faces.
We hear an angry crowd outside, shouts and curses. But inside, the quiet singing continues. A YOUNG BLACK BOY reaches out and takes CLAIRE’s hand. He smiles shyly at her.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of CLAIRE’s face as she smiles back, but her eyes are teary as she realizes that this is a side of black life she knows nothing about.
SINGERS
(cont’d)
Oh, Lord, I love Thee, Thou dost know
Oh, shepherd, feed-a my sheep.
Oh, give me the grace to love Thee more;
Oh, shepherd, feed-a my sheep.
CUT TO:
We see CLAIRE AND PRISCILLA sitting in the pews with the black parishioners.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of a clock on a shelf. It is four thirty.
CUT TO:
The outside of the church. It is beginning to rain. A horse-drawn carriage approaches. A SERVANT WOMAN appears at the gate of a house on the street; she opens the gate and the carriage goes in. The DRIVER gets out, looks around cautiously, and locks and padlocks the gate. He throws a blanket over the horse and quickly goes into the house.
CUT TO:
INT. of church. CLOSE-UP of clock. It is five thirty.
CUT TO:
PRISCILLA, CLAIRE, and REVEREND CURRY at the front of the church.
REVEREND CURRY
Things look a little quieter now. The rain will help. But you are welcome to spend the night here.
PRISCILLA
Thank you. Thank you so much. But we’d better be getting along now.
REVEREND CURRY
Then feel free to come any Sunday.
CLAIRE
(quietly, almost to herself)
I will, I will.
EXT. MERCER STREET—SAME DAY
We are looking from south to north up Mercer Street at a group of weary SOLDIERS. Two of them stand in front of a boarded-up window. Above the boards we see the sign GOODMAN’S FINE GOODS.
FIRST SOLDIER
You know, I got a daughter almost six months old I haven’t seen. I’d love to see her before I die. I thought I always wanted a boy child, a son. When April told me the baby was a girl, I was disappointed at first. Then I started thinking about the little girl, and I found myself crying because she was so beautiful. Ain’t that something? She being so beautiful and all and me never having laid eyes on her? Ain’t that something?
SECOND SOLDIER
That’s something, all right.
FIRST SOLDIER
You hear what Beck said the other day? He said he clean forgot what this war was about. Except for the killing, of course.
SECOND SOLDIER
(eyeing rioters down the street)
They forming up down there?
I guess. They ain’t seen enough dying to back off from it. They will by and by. They will by and by.
OFFICER
Lock and load!
CUT TO:
A group of Irish YOUNGSTERS. Some are teenagers, but they are mostly boys, with a few girls among them. They are boisterous, excited, young. They mock the SOLDIERS and begin to throw small rocks. We see one of the rocks bounce along the street and land at the foot of a SOLDIER. The camera pans up on the face of the SOLDIER. We recognize him as JOSHUA LANCASTER.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP: The face of a YOUNG MAN among the rioters. He is anxious.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP: Another face. This one is even younger.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP: Another face. We recognize BILLY EVANS.
MEDIUM SHOT: We see the RIOTERS as a group. They are looking down the street at the SOLDIERS, wondering what is going to happen. We see MAEVE join the crowd. She is looking around for LIAM.
YOUNG MAN
(to someone off-camera)
Hey, you. Take some boys and get in front of the soldiers so they don’t see what’s going on.
LIAM
(as he is joined by MAEVE)
Get in front of the soldiers yourself!
YOUNG MAN
Go on! We’ll see that you’re taken care of. Go on!
CUT TO:
A MAN whom LIAM knows gives him the thumbs-up sign.
CUT TO:
LIAM takes a hesitant half-step forward, then inhales deeply. WE HEAR the sound of a low note from a cello that begins to rise in volume.
The older YOUNGSTERS push the CHILDREN forward. The SOLDIERS stand and form a loose line.
STREET TOUGH
They won’t shoot. What do they care about Goodman’s?
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP: JOSH LANCASTER, biting his lip anxiously. The camera moves from face to face, and we see that the RIOTERS are clearly apprehensive about the SOLDIERS.
CUT TO:
TOMMY ENRIGHT and DENNIS RILEY among the crowd.
TOMMY ENRIGHT
(getting up his nerve)
We get in and we get out quick! Bam! Bam! Bam! Nothing to it.
DENNIS RILEY
You sure we can trust the kid? If he takes the goods down to bleedin’ Mulberry Street…
DENNIS RILEY
(nervously)
No. No. I don’t think they’ll open up on us.
TOMMY ENRIGHT
I ain’t scared none.
CUT TO:
LONG SHOT of the opposing groups. The RIOTERS are beginning to start toward the SOLDIERS. The SOLDIERS almost nonchalantly raise their weapons. Among the RIOTERS, we recognize the signature ribbons of the Dead Rabbits. They stop in front of Goodman’s but point toward the SOLDIERS.
Suddenly a brick is produced and thrown through the window of the store. We hear shattering glass, punctuated by the shouts of bravado from the onrushing RIOTERS as the camera assumes their POV. Then there is the deafening noise of a volley from the SOLDIERS.
CUT TO:
A YOUNG MAN has fallen. He looks down at his bloody chest and, childishly, tries to wipe away the hurt. There is a spreading stain on his chest and a look of incredulity on his face as he realizes he is dying.
CUT TO:
The distraught face of an OLD WOMAN. She shakes her head and clutches her rosary beads tightly.
TOMMY ENRIGHT
Hold it! Move to the sidewalks! Look out for the wounded!
We hear a second deafening volley from the army.
More of the RIOTERS fall, including at least one woman. People are running, bumping into each other. A woman reaches down for the outstretched arm of a child.
We hear very heavy breathing and the sound of a person in pain. The sound is almost a whimper that grows in volume and then fades. Finally we hear the sound of the heavy breathing again, and then that, too, subsides.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of MAEVE kneeling on the ground next to the lying figure of LIAM.
MAEVE
(screaming)
Liam! Liam!
MAEVE
Oh, please! Speak to me, Liam. Speak to me!
The camera looks over MAEVE’s shoulder to LIAM. He is searching MAEVE’s face, but he is holding his chest. He moves his hand away, and we see an angry red splotch on his shirt and vest.
LIAM
Am I all right, love?
MAEVE
(looking at her blood-splattered hands)
Yes. Yes. You’re going to be just fine, darling. Just fine.
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT from a rooftop: Several people lay wounded in the streets. Those who are not wounded are trying to care for them. We hear the sound of an Irish folk tune. It is far too gay for the grim scene we are visiting.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of an OLD MAN’s face as he looks at the wounded. He is shocked and somewhat dazed.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of a SOLDIER’s face. The camera moves in, and we see that the SOLDIER is younger than we first thought. His eyes are wide, his breathing shallow. He has not expected to be shooting civilians.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. THE PEACOCK INN—SAME EVENING
CLAIRE and PRISCILLA are sitting at a table, both clearly tired and distressed. JOHN is standing, and ELLEN sits and rocks on another chair.
JOHN
Where were you? I was looking…I put you on the boat myself!
CLAIRE
I got off the boat. I am not a child.
JOHN
(sputtering somewhat)
You disobeyed me! I am your father!
ELLEN
Don’t yell at her! I’m here! You’re here! We’re a family!
CLAIRE
Aren’t we all just learning our places here? Aren’t we finding them like that poet said? They’re finding them in the fires we’re setting, and we’re finding them, too. I didn’t choose to be black.
ELLEN
Claire!
CLAIRE
I didn’t! I just wanted to be a human being. I just wanted to be whoever I saw in the mirror, without a race or a place in life. What is so wrong with that? What is so wrong with it?
JOHN
Claire, there’s nothing wrong with you being you. I love who you are and will until I die. But first, first we need to get through these hard days.
CLAIRE
I know. I know. But what will we be when we come out of them?
PRISCILLA
We went to my aunt’s house. She’s dead. I don’t know what happened.
ELLEN
Oh, my God! I’m so sorry.
JOHN
How are you, Priscilla?
PRISCILLA
As well as I can be, I guess.
JOHN
Your father sent a message by a salesman coming into New York. He asks me to let you stay with us if I can find you. Of course you can stay here.
ELLEN
Things will get better. They’re saying that the streets are calming down now.
JOHN
After three days, maybe they’ve done all the damage they can.
I’m sorry you were worried. But I couldn’t just run away with the little children. I have to find myself. Face up to who I am.
ELLEN
And who can that be, Claire? And who is doing the telling? Is it you or is it those people screaming down the streets?
CLAIRE
It’s me, Mum. It’s me looking at myself and finding a black woman where there was only a girl before.
ELLEN
(goes to CLAIRE)
And who am I, darling? Where have you found me?
CLAIRE
You’re still my own sweet mum. I just have more parts to fit in than I thought.
(the two embrace)
ELLEN
More parts than I ever thought.
Maybe, when this is all over, when the streets are quiet again, we’ll be able to sit down and sort it all out. Maybe one day we can even forget about the ugliness and not worry about what color we are. We can just be the Johnson family, proud owners of the Peacock, the best place in New York City. And anyone who walks through our front door can just be a human being. Just a human being.
ELLEN
And we’ll steal Priscilla from her parents to supervise the cleaning staff. Which will probably mean me and Claire.
CLAIRE
(as we slowly fade out)
It’ll be a grand place. And I can go back to being Claire again. Is that possible? That I can just be myself again?
FADE OUT
INT. THE PEACOCK INN—LATE THAT NIGHT
We open on a darkened screen with some light bleeding in from the left. The camera moves slowly to the left, and we see a small votive candle on a corner table.
We hear the sounds of heavy breathing as if someone is carrying a heavy burden. Along with the burden there are sounds of distress as well in the breathing pattern.
We see, dimly, a mouse moving along the floor. It is tentative, stopping now and again, lifting its little snout into the air as if finding its way by scent. The camera moves with the mouse slowly, then quickly as it climbs the leg of a table.
We see the crouching figure of a cat. It moves, its body low to the ground, almost imperceptible in the darkened Peacock.
We hear, again, the sound of labored breathing, then banging against the door.
We see the mouse, alert, scurrying down from the table. We see the cat freeze, one paw in the air, then move silently into the shadows.
We hear more banging against the door, this time more urgent.
CLAIRE’s bedroom. We see fingers over a dampened oil lamp. The fingers turn up the lamp, and we see CLAIRE’s face, half lit by the lamp. Her eyes are wide. Dressed in her nightclothes, she moves quickly from the bed and to the door. At the door, she stops and turns, and we see PRISCILLA still lying on the bed.
CLAIRE enters her parents’ bedroom. JOHN is already up and is pulling up his trousers.
JOHN
Late-night drunks. I’ll tell them we’re closed.
CLAIRE
It could be black people, looking for shelter.
JOHN
I’ll them we’re closed, honey. The rioting has died down for now. They’ll be safe until morning.
JOHN and CLAIRE go down the stairs to the main floor of the Peacock.
ELLEN
(from the bedroom)
What are you doing?
ELLEN
(pulling her robe closed as she joins JOHN and CLAIRE on the stairs)
Oh, yes, of course.
JOHN, CLAIRE, and then ELLEN reach the first floor. They all look toward the front door, and again we hear the banging. JOHN crosses to the window and looks out. The camera looks out with him, but we can’t see anything significant. JOHN picks up a poker and hefts it to feel its weight. CLAIRE looks around and picks up a candle.
JOHN
(at the door)
The Peacock is closed. Go home.
MAEVE
(from outside)
It’s Maeve. And Liam. Oh, he’s hurt so bad. We need help.
JOHN
I’m sorry, but…
ELLEN goes to the door. She starts to unlatch it when JOHN puts a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head no.
MAEVE
Please, he just needs a little water.
ELLEN turns to JOHN, her eyes pleading. JOHN steps back, his muscles taut in case it’s a trick. ELLEN lifts the latch and unlocks the door. MAEVE and JOSEPH, a gang member, half drag, half carry LIAM into the Peacock.
MAEVE
Oh, thank God. The soldiers are rounding everybody up, even the wounded ones. People are dying in the streets, and in the houses, and everywhere you have a mind to look. Oh, my sweet Jesus. Did you say you worked for a doctor? Do you think you could get him to come and look at my Liam?
They bring LIAM, who looks terribly wounded, into the Peacock and lay him down on a table. The camera pans his body, and we see an incredibly large bloodstain on his shirt which also covers the upper half of his pants. We go to his face for an instant and quickly away, as if even the camera cannot stand to see what it must see.
Then the camera moves back to LIAM’s face, and we see a young man minutes from the dying.
JOSEPH
(nervously)
I’ll be on me way.
MAEVE
(to JOSEPH)
Thank you.
(then to JOHN as JOSEPH leaves)
Do you think the doctor will come?
JOHN
Let me get his shirt open.
MAEVE
He’s bleeding so…
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of ELLEN’s face as she stares wide-eyed past JOHN.
ELLEN
He needs a doctor.
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT: LIAM is on table, CLAIRE is getting water.
CLAIRE
He’ll die without a doctor.
MAEVE
He’s really an all-right sort. He is. Really. And strong. If we can bring him around, he’s strong enough to pull through. I know he’s strong enough to pull through!
ELLEN
John? John?
JOHN
I’ll go look for a doctor. Maybe Dr. Smith, if they haven’t hanged him or beaten him to death.
MAEVE
(to CLAIRE)
Do you think he’ll be all right?
CLAIRE
Yes, I’m sure.
MAEVE watches as JOHN goes to the door. It has started to rain.
MAEVE
(looking anxiously about)
We weren’t meaning what we said before.
About coloreds and that sort of thing. It was just…a bit of a lark.
(voice trailing as she realizes the position she is in)
Not a very good lark. We didn’t mean any harm.
(begins to pray for LIAM)
Oh, God, he’s not a bad sort. He’s not a bad sort. He likes people. Oh, won’t you people say something. Please, he’s not a bad sort. Really.
CLAIRE puts her hand on MAEVE’s and bows her head.
MAEVE
(continues praying)
Oh, God, please don’t let him go.
Everything he’s ever done wrong, he’s sorry for, and everything he’s done right, he meant to do well.
We hear MAEVE still praying for LIAM.
We see LIAM move slightly, make a very feeble sign of the cross, then lift one arm as if he is reaching for something high above him. We see the arm come down slowly. We see LIAM’s face blanch and then his head turn slowly to one side.
MAEVE
Liam? Oh, Liam.
We hear the sound of music rising in pitch until it is indistinguishable from the high wailing of a scream.
DISSOLVE
EXT. WASHINGTON SQUARE—JULY 15, 1863—MORNING
MEDIUM SHOT: A NEWSBOY is selling papers. Two GENTLEMEN take papers, and one tosses a coin toward the boy.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Well, it’s over at last. None the worse for the city, if you ask me. Gives us an air of neutrality.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
I wasn’t damaged. And with the government handing out money, there won’t be too many hurting.
EXT. A CATHOLIC CHURCH—SAME DAY
A solemn procession of MOURNERS leaves the church. They carry two caskets. The first is full size, the second, in the arms of a beefy IRISHMAN, much smaller.
EXT. A CEMETERY—SAME DAY
Small GROUPS OF PEOPLE are gathered around several grave sites.
CUT TO:
The craggy face of a black UNDERTAKER wearing a top hat. He looks straight ahead as we hear the voice of a black MINISTER.
MINISTER
(voice-over)
For I have laid me down on holy ground, and in the darkest hour I have lifted mine eyes unto the hills and there I have seen salvation….
EXT. A BLACK BAPTIST CHURCH—SAME DAY
A sad CONGREGATION files out of the church, carrying a casket.
CUT TO:
Two small BOYS, one white and one black, standing on a corner watching the funeral processions.
EXT. A TENEMENT BUILDING—SAME DAY
A group of roughly dressed YOUNG WHITE MEN is carrying a casket down a flight of wooden steps. A PRIEST walks in front and past a group of sad-faced WOMEN. One of them turns abruptly away.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP of her profile; we recognize MAEVE.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
INT. THE PEACOCK INN—SAME DAY
JOHN, ELLEN, and CLAIRE are gathered around a table. There is bowl of fruit on the table illuminated by the slanting rays of the afternoon sun. JOHN is cleaning the bottom of a copper pot. ELLEN and CLAIRE sit as if they are tired.
CLAIRE
At least things are calmer now.
JOHN
They still haven’t brought the children back from Blackwell’s Island.
CLAIRE
Where are they going to bring them with the orphanage burned down?
JOHN
They took some to Weeksville, in Brooklyn. Brooklyn’s a good city.
ELLEN
The police are rounding up the last of the hooligans. Did you hear—?
(nervously as she wonders how all that has happened will affect her family)
Have you eaten anything?
ELLEN
(a beat)
Did you hear they were going house to house on Worth Street looking for stolen goods? And once the police get the goods, they’ll just end up in a different house. I don’t trust the police any more than I did the toughs in the street. But they’ll not be rioting in the streets of New York for a while. Leastways those who know the difference between a duck and a spade.
JOHN
And life goes on.
CLAIRE
Priscilla was mixed about leaving today. She was sad going to Connecticut, even for the while, but relieved not to be afraid of walking down a street. It’s sad to think of how we were just dancing down these same streets on the Fourth of July.
Do you think that you can have another talk with Mr. Valentine, now that things are quiet?
JOHN
He was clear when he spoke to me the first time, and clearer yesterday when I asked him if I could add more fish to the dinner menu. He looked me in the eye…. He looked me in the eye and said that I would have to consult the new owners.
I asked him if he didn’t mean the new white owners, even though they made an offer that was less than ours? He said he had an obligation to the community. Then he looked away. Just looked away.
SLOW DISSOLVE
INT. NASSAU HALL LIBRARY, PRINCETON
ROBERT VAN VORST sits at a desk, talking to two older STUDENTS who stand near him. After a brief conversation, the two leave and ROBERT picks up his pen and begins writing.
ROBERT
(voice-over)
Dear Claire,
Well, I’m firmly ensconced (a new word) at Princeton now. I haven’t made any real friends, and it’s quite strange to be only in the company of boys all the time. We are not supposed to talk about the war, but that is really all that we talk about when someone is not arguing about religion, which is also a less than temperate topic here. Some of the Southern boys have actually brought their Negroes with them as servants. Living in New Jersey, they have to be free, of course, but I sense a kind of understanding that makes them somewhat less than completely free.
Oh, how I miss our running down to the docks and watching the ships come in. We study geography and learn of many of the places from where the ships sail, but I believe it more fun to imagine the places than to be burdened with actual knowledge.
I also miss your laughing. It always seemed that you laughed a lot, and that made me feel good even on the gloomiest of days.
Father writes me dutifully once every two weeks, giving me parental advice. Sometimes the other boys compare their letters from home, and it is amazing how similar they all are. He tells me that the best guess is that the South will lose the war and that will make an end to slavery. I hope that is true because the words of the founding fathers—did you know they sometimes met at Princeton?—did promote freedom for all peoples.
I wrote to Priscilla in Connecticut but have received no reply. It has never occurred to me before to ask if she can read. Some of the Southern men say that Negroes (they never actually use that term unless we are in class) are gifted storytellers and only pretend to be reading.
If she visits New York and you see her, you will have to give her my regards and let me know how she is doing.
Love to your family,
Robert Van Vorst
EXT. A HOUSE IN MIDDLETOWN, CONNECTICUT
Two middle-aged WHITE WOMEN are talking by a white picket fence. A YOUNG BLACK WOMAN walks down the path, smiles, and nods toward the WHITE WOMEN before entering the house.
FIRST WHITE WOMAN
They are such lovely people.
SECOND WHITE WOMAN
You would hardly know they were Negroes. Of course, you can see them. I mean, they don’t act like Negroes, do they?
INT. A SMALL ROOM IN THE HOUSE—SAME DAY (CONTINUOUS)
We see a figure sitting at a small table in front of the window. From her POV we see the WHITE WOMEN still talking at the picket fence. The camera moves so that we see the face of PRISCILLA as she picks up a pen and begins to write. The camera is focused sometimes on the paper before her and sometimes on the view from the window.
PRISCILLA
(voice-over)
Dear Claire,
We are settled now here in Middletown. Mother is still very much upset in a noisy sort of way but I fear most for Father. He is so quiet. At night he often sits by himself in the parlor. There’s no talking to him, for he only answers in grunts. I think I know what he is feeling. The business that we worked so hard to build in New York was torn down so quickly during the riots.
Claire, I miss you so much. I want to run all the way to New York and throw my arms around you the way we used to do. Did you read in the papers about how our colored soldiers are doing? I knew that after the wonderful showing of the 54th Massachusetts in South Carolina, they would all do well. A woman down the street knew the family of Colonel Shaw, who was killed with the 54th. All the papers speak of how brave our soldiers have been and what a difference they are making in this terrible war. Father says they should have been the ones sent to New York to calm the streets.
We do sometimes get the papers from New York, but they arrive a week late, if at all. That’s great fun because the local papers report the same news and you can compare the accounts.
I wonder if you will ever visit me here. The house we have rented is quite large, and our neighbors seem to be of a decent sort. There aren’t that many black people here. I never thought that sort of thing would matter, but now I actually count them.
I have received two letters from Robert, which I have not answered. It’s is almost as if I have forgotten how to speak to him, which I think is crazy. I know I will answer him, but I want to say something happy and wonderful and it seems that all the happy and wonderful things ended in the summer.
I think it will be hard to maintain our friendship through letters, but in my heart I will always be your friend. I cannot wait until we are together again and sharing a laugh and a hug.
The Lord bless you and keep you, sweet Claire. The Lord make His face to shine upon you, and be gracious unto you. And give you peace. And give you peace.
Your best friend (until you find a husband),
Priscilla
The camera pans the same streets at the opening of the film, but this time it stops now and again on boarded-up buildings, a few charred remains of tenements and, now and again, on doorways upon which there is placed a black wreath.
CUT TO:
LONG SHOT of the Peacock Inn. The camera zooms in slowly, pauses for a moment on the window, and then moves up to another window on the second floor.
INT. CLAIRE’S ROOM—SAME DAY (CONTINUOUS)
CLAIRE sits on the bed with a portable writing desk propped up on pillows. We hear her voice-over as she writes.
CLAIRE
(voice-over)
Dear Priscilla,
Father’s changed again because of Mother’s condition. She’s developed a cough, which we both think needs watching and so we’ll stay in New York for a while. Robert has written me two letters which express his excitement at school. I think he’s equally excited to be away from his dreadfully stuffy parents.
We see more and more freed slaves from the South. The poor dears come into the city and they are so lost and uneasy. They are also badly treated, I’m afraid. Priscilla, I am convinced that once this war is over there will be no more people held in chains. But I wonder if there will be a new bondage. Will we be trapped in our skins, forever held to be different because we are not white? And what wars will free us from that distinction? Before the riots, Mr. Valentine looked upon us as the caretakers of his property and was pleased with us. Now he looks at us as if we started the trouble, as if our very presence as Negroes was the difference.
Before those four terrible days, I looked beyond skin and saw people. But it was our skin that made us targets, not our hearts. I am slow to come around to being the old Claire again, but I think she lurks somewhere within me.
(we hear the soft sounds of “The Black Rose”) Priscilla, we can’t go back again. Maybe the three of us—you, me and Robert—back in school were seeing things with the eyes of children then. Perhaps our innocence is forever gone. But sitting with my mum and working on the quilt that you and I started, and seeing my father get up and push on despite his disappointment, I think that if we can’t go back, then we should try even harder to go forward. And I do want to go forward, to a place where loving someone because they have a gentle smile and a friendly hello is as easy as it once was.
I see Maeve now and again. I think she truly loved Liam and misses him terribly. Life hasn’t been easy for her, as it hasn’t been easy for many of the poor folks in these streets. We share a word or two of little importance and sometimes even a smile. We go on with our lives. We are not comfortable with each other, but neither do we hate each other and that’s good.
Do write Robert. I think he will love to hear from you. But write me much, much more, because I adore you so.
Your true friend,
and with all my love and all my heart,
Claire
The music rises as the camera pulls away from CLAIRE and continues through to the last dissolve.
EXT. THE PEACOCK INN
EXT. THE STREETS OF LOWER NEW YORK
EXT. GULLS IN SILHOUETTE OVER THE HARBOR
The End