Fanny and Walt by Jewel Seehaus-Fisher

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This Play is the copyright of the Author and may not be performed, copied or sold without the Author's prior consent

Fanny Fern, 44, columnist and novelist
Walt Whitman, 36, poet, self-published author of LEAVES OF GRASS
Jemmy Parton, 33, biographer, Fern's third husband
Samuel Wells, 40, phrenologist, publisher
Mary Rogers, 36, Jemmy Parton's sister.

ACT I, scene 1

(January 5, 1856, bedroom in a hotel in Hoboken. Satisfied murmurs in
near dark. Oil lamp is turned up, revealing Jemmy Parton and Fanny Fern
in bed. It is their wedding night. Carelessly tossed on one chair are Fanny's
flouncy underclothes and velvet dress. Neatly folded on another chair are
Jemmy's shirt, suit and coat)

JEMMY: I know a good thing when I see it.

Fanny pushes back covers, so that her head is visible.

FANNY: We both do. That's when it's good.

JEMMY: It's good?

FANNY: It's good.

Fanny reaches for him; he pushes her away affectionately.

JEMMY: You're tireless.

FANNY: That's what my editor said.

JEMMY: What does your editor know about you! He hasn't kissed you as I have:
hereand hereand here.

FANNY: He has embraced me in a full-page ad in the TIMES.

Fanny pulls newspaper from under bed, hands it to Jemmy.

JEMMY: "Fanny Fern writes only for the New York Ledger."

FANNY: My wedding present to you. More money for us to play with.

JEMMY: I thought you were finished with newspaper work.

FANNY: At $100 a column, I am now the highest paid newspaper columnist-man
or woman-in the entire goddamned world. Excuse my language. I know you don't
believe in a God.

JEMMY: I thought you'd write another novel.

FANNY: Well, I might. Tonight everything seems possible.

JEMMY: I thought we'd have a quiet life on the same daily rhythm. Early to bed and
early to rise.

Humorous snore.

FANNY: Oh, well. It's still snowing. If this keeps up, the ferries won't run in the
morning. We'll have to stay herein this room..

JEMMY: In this bed.

FANNY: We'll die of.LOVE.

Fanny topples out of bed, stretching out on floor, beckoning to Jemmy.

JEMMY: Of exhaustion! Now come back to bed.

FANNY: And for what, Jemmy Parton?

JEMMY: For a chaste snuggle.

FANNY: Oh, pooh. Nothing more?

JEMMY: Too soon. I think I'm overmatched in you, my dear.

FANNY: Surely you don't want to sleep so soon! This wedding night business has given
me an appetite. Jemmy, what do you say to some beefsteak and ale? I think the lights are
still on in the restaurant across the street.

JEMMY: It's too late. And I'm too sleepy-

FANNY: Well, I'm not! Please?...I'll go without you.

JEMMY: They won't let you in unescorted. You'll be arrested for prostitution, and my
sister will say it serves you right for being foolish.

FANNY: If I wear your clothes, I can go as a man. So I'll just borrow this shirt, thank
you.

JEMMY: My wedding shirt!

FANNY: Am I well "groomed."?

JEMMY: I bridle at your pun.

FANNY: What delight! A comfortable shirt..and no corset.

JEMMY: You have a lovely figure.

FANNY: Now, I'll wear your trousers.

Fanny strikes a masculine pose.

JEMMY: Disappearing Fast. Have a cravat!

FANNY: How do I look?

JEMMY: Mmmm. Very handsome indeed.

FANNY: Why, thank you, sir!

Fanny bows to him.

JEMMY: You're most welcome, sir!

Jemmy bows back.

FANNY: A pleasure all round. If two play at that game. I dare you!

Fanny tries to pull off his nightshirt, holding her own petticoat.

JEMMY: Fanny, no!

FANNY: I dark you!

JEMMY: No! What next, hoops!

FANNY: With me, it's hips, not hoops. Have a petticoat. Oooh la-la.

Fanny slips the petticoat over his head, arranges frills about his face.

JEMMY: This itches.

FANNY: Have my shoes.

JEMMY: Surely you don't wear these in the snow. What're they made of?

FANNY: The sheerest French leather.

JEMMY: They'd fall apart in a minute. I'm glad I'm not a woman.

He takes off the petticoat.

Fanny takes his shoes.

FANNY: Now you know how I feel-sometimes! If your sister could see me now!

JEMMY: I wish she had come to our wedding.

Jemmy lies down, still holding petticoat and dress.

FANNY: Well, she didn't.

JEMMY: She doesn't understand-

FANNY: Understand what, my love?

JEMMY: That you are my muse, my mistress. My rich wife. When I admitted that I
intended to marry Fanny Fern-

FANNY: Admitted! As in 'confessed.'!

JEMMY: She doubted you could accept a life of bread-making and button-hole stitching.
I told her you would be my best friend, which was thoughtless of me. Mary's always
been my best friend. But after a few hugs, she promised to visit next month.

FANNY: My stomach is growling.

Fanny reaches down, pulls on Jemmy's boots, stands.

JEMMY: You're not going out like that!

FANNY: It's steak and ale for me.

Fanny dons Jemmy's overcoat, tucks her hair under his hat. EXIT Fanny. Jemmy is
stunned.

Scene Two

The tavern across the street. Seated at the table are: SAMUEL WELLS and WALT
WHITMAN. Whitman is dressed in worker's clothing, much as in the frontispiece of the
first edition of LEAVES OF GRASS. Although they are indoors, he wears a hat, jauntily
cocked. In contrast SAMUEL is formally dress. WHITMAN holds a copy of LEAVES
OF GRASS. Glasses and pitcher are on the table.

WALT: But it's true. When I see a healthy young man, I want to touch him, the way
females are always hugging and kissing each other.

SAMUEL: Women are innocent creatures. On my wedding night, while I was busy-
with that business, my wife sobbed as if her heart was broken. I expected nothing less
from a girl pure in mind and body. But when you write about men embracing each otherthat gives me pause about publication. I need time to consider, to solicit advice. Now that my partner has left the firm, I have to find other readers I can trust.

WALT: Ralph Waldo Emerson himself has praised my poems!

SAMUEL: I keep a copy of LEAVES next to my bed, but I'm a businessman-

WALT: What has business to do with poetry?

SAMUEL: I have a wife and children to support. I can't think only of myself.

Enter Fanny, dressed in Jemmy's clothes.

FANNY: Why, Samuel Wells. Still here in Hoboken. May I join you?

SAMUEL: Sir?

WALT: Who's this?

SAMUEL: This is-my Lord! It's Fanny Ern! Dressed-

She wept through one of life's transcendental experiences.

Gives you-pause! I thought we had an understanding.

FANNY: In Jemmy's wedding clothes.

SAMUEL: Fanny, this is-

SANNY: Whitman. I recognized you from the frontispiece of your book.

WALT: My frontispiece is famous.

SAMUEL: Walt, this is Jemmy Parton's wife, as of this afternoon.

WALT: Mrs. Parton.

FANNY: Fanny Fern, if you please.

WALT: I think I'll call you 'Fern.'

SAMUEL: Why are you here? And in Jemmy's clothes?

WALT: I like you dressed like this.

Fanny pulls off her hat. Her hair falls loosely.

SAMUEL: Where's your husband?

FANNY: Asleep, no doubt. I'm hungry!

WALT: A lusty woman!

FANNY: I've wanted to meet you for tome time.

WALT: Tell me why.

FANNY: You stole my title!

FANNY: From FERN LEAVES to LEAVES OF GRASS? Of course you did.
Furthermore, you stole my cover design.

WALT: Yes. And the spell is broken. I cockmy hat as I please, indoors or out.

FANNY: Nonsense.

WALT: I improved on both. But my poems are wholly original. Did you read them?

FANNY: Yes

WALT: And?

FANNY: Though I shouldn't read a thief, no matter how compelling his voice.

WALT: Is my voice compelling?

FANNY: Frightfully.

Samuel nervously breaks in.

SAMUEL: Do you wonder why I'm still in Hoboken?

FANNY: I can think of nothing else.

SAMUEL: After I witnessed your wedding, Walt met me here, so that we could talk on
the way back to the city. We stopped for dinner - The innkeeper said we can sleep on the tables.

FANNY: Where is the innkeeper? I'm famished.

SAMUEL: He's gone to bed, but here's break and ale. Really, Fanny, you shouldn't be
here.

Walt moves the bread plate and knife towards Fanny.

WALT: Shall I drink to you, Fern, and to your wedding night?

FANNY: And to our acquaintance, short but-

WALT: Compelling. I've met your husband. A paragon of industry, eh, Sam?

SAMUEL: An inspiration to all who know him.

WALT: It's the procreant urge that you hear. I like ferries. And by that time the Hudson was shut down tight by the snow. Early to bed and early to rise.

FANNY: No time for a honeymoon, even if his sister would approve of such indulgence.

WALT: What does the Paragon's sister think of his marriage to Fanny Fern?

FANNY: The first time we met, she ran from the room in tears.

WALT: More fool, she. I already like you better than any woman I've ever met.

FANNY: She said a good woman does not divorce her husband.

WALT: Not even the beastly Mr.Farrington?....I've heard the stories.

FANNY: And a good woman does not marry three times.

SAMUEL: I'm sure you're not to blame.

WALT: Yet another husband.

FANNY: Charles Eldridge, my first. He left me widowed-

WALT: I hope it was a happier marriage than with Farringdon.

FANNY: Immensely happy. When he kissed me, I fell into a stupor.

WALT: I hope you were seated.

FANNY: I was lying down.

SAMUEL: I'm sure Jemmy wonders where you are at this moment.

FANNY: Charlie left me penniless, which was why I married Mr.Farrington. Never
marry for financial security, Whitman. Good heavens, what's that?

WALT: Male comradeship, for which I claim touching as well, the way girls are always
hugging and kissing each other. I claim that for men.

FANNY: Well, why not?

WALT: It's as natural as amativeness. I'm sure Samuel agrees, don't you? I hope it was a happier marriage than with Farrington. I hope you were seated. I won't marry. My life-and my work-are a celebration of adhesion.

SAMUEL: What's amativeness?

FANNY: I'm sure you do. You wrote:
the female form
Attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,
I am drawn by its breath

WALT: Yes, but -

FANNY: But—?

WALT: When I see a comely young man at work, or on the piers embracing another
fellow in a farewell, I understand-

FANNY: Understandthe spirit of the thing?

WALT: Yes! A phrenologist read that capacity in the bumps on my head. Every morning
I press the bump of Language, to improve my powers. You can ask Sam about it.

Walt presses bump under left eye socket, to demonstrate.

Fanny touches similar bump on herself, lightly teasing.

FANNY: Will it work for journalism?

SAMUEL: I am the phrenologist who read Whitman's bumps.

FANNY: Are you also his publisher? Well, just look at you.

WALT: I bathe and swim daily, I study texts on water cure, diet, exercise, personal
magnetism. I sing.

FANNY: What do you sing?

WALT: Arias from Italian opera, when I ride back and forth on the ferries. Sam's been
with me a few times. Sexual love between man and woman. I like the ladies well enough-

FANNY: Yes, but-

WALT: Ask Sam. We're working on that. Sam says I have a grand physical constitution.

SAMUEL: He has a nice voice.

WALT: The recitatives showed me how to write free verse. That and the unmetered
rhythms of the Bible in the noble songs of Moses, the lyric prayers of King David, the
rhapsodic prophecies of Isaiah.

FANNY: I'm sure you mesmerize your fellow passengers. Jemmy and I exchanged
clothing not one hour ago. If we'd been mesmerized, who knows what might have
happened.

WALT: I wish I'd been there. But you should be careful. Sexual curiosity can be
dangerous.

Samuel, alarmed, wants to move Fanny along.

SAMUEL: Well, Fanny, shall I walk you back across the street?

FANNY: Not quite yet, Sam, but thank you.

SAMUEL: Well, are you intending to spend the night here with us?

FANNY: I might. I might not. Perhaps Whitman will mesmerize me with his powers.

SAMUEL: You don't need to be mesmerized. You have Mason Brothers as your
publisher. Walt, they published all her books, including her novel. $10,000 in royalties.

WALT: I suppose your book ends in a wedding, like most women's fiction

FANNY: It begins with a wedding, but I get that out of the way pretty fast. The groom
dies early on-

WALT: More fool, he.

[end of extract]

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