The Dakota

                        A Play in Two Scenes by William Fowkes

             Two worlds collide when a 71-year-old resident of New York’s most fabled

                              apartment building entertains his first visitor in years.

                                                       EXCERPT:

SCENE ONE

The Scene:  1999—a summer afternoon.  As the scene begins, Earl Mumford is wandering around his living room at the Dakota, nervously awaiting someone’s arrival.  A radio is playing in the background.  Earl walks over to a framed picture on a table, picks it up and stares at it adoringly for a few moments.  He turns off the radio before speaking. 

EARL MUMFORD

(Addressing the picture.)  I hope you don’t mind what I’ve planned this afternoon.  (Puts the photo back down.)  I can’t remember the last time we had a visitor.  (Checking his watch.)  I hope he didn’t change his mind.  He should have been here by now.  What do I do with myself?  (Goes to the window—looks straight out at the audience.)  Do you miss the view?  Remember how we loved to watch the light roll across Central Park in the morning?  And the way the setting sun suddenly plunges the park into night?  Especially this time of year, when the long hot days just seem to collapse from exhaustion.  How poetic!  I’m doing it again—I’m talking to myself.  (The house phone buzzes.  He flinches.)  Good God!  (Answers the house phone.)  Earl Mumford here. Yes, very good.  Thank you, Derek.  (Hangs up.)  OK.  What to do?  What to do?  (Stares back out into the audience.)  Just stare at the view, I guess.  I’m still talking to myself, aren’t I?  Well that’s why I need company.  (The doorbell rings.  He flinches again.)  Just a minute!  (Goes to mirror to make sure he’s presentable.  Turns away in disgust.)  OK—it’s show time!  (Goes to open the door and reaches out to shake his visitor’s hand.)  You must be Mark.  Welcome to my humble abode, young man. 

MARK

I’m looking for Earl Mumford.  

EARL

And you’ve found him!  Come in, come in!

MARK

(Confused.)  Are you Earl’s father? 

EARL

No, I’m Earl Mumford.  I don’t have a son.

MARK

This is the Dakota, right?  Well, of course it is.  I mean, are you the Earl Mumford who lives at the Dakota?  I’m not sure what I mean.

EARL

(Chuckling.)  Oh, I see the problem.  You’re “Hot Connecticut Man,” right?  I mean that’s your screen name.  Well, I’m “Buff Man.”

MARK

(Clearly disappointed.)  Yes, but you’re not . . . I mean . . .

EARL

OK, my big secret’s out.  I’m not buff.  But I am a man, aren’t I?  One out of two’s not bad.

MARK

Is this some kind of joke?

                                                          EARL

No, no!  I genuinely wanted to meet you.  I’ve enjoyed our conversations on-line, so naturally I thought it would be nice to meet.  I, uh—I tried to warn you.  I told you I hadn’t done any bodybuilding in years.

MARK

I thought you were just being modest.  When you said you were buff, I got a certain image in my head—you know?

EARL

But I also told you I was older than I might have led you to believe.

MARK

We’re all older than we lead people to believe.  I’m in my forties, but I say I’m 29 on-line.  That’s expected.  So I figured you were older.  But I didn’t think you were . . .

                                                          EARL

I’m seventy . . .

MARK

Seventy!

EARL

Yes, seventy.  One.

MARK

Seventy-one!

EARL

All right, I turn seventy-two next week.

MARK

So that means you’re really in your eighties!

EARL

No, no—just seventy-one.

MARK

Just seventy-one!

EARL

I told you I’ve lived here over forty years. 

MARK

I assumed you meant you grew up here.

EARL

No, I was fully grown when we came here.  I’m sorry—this isn’t what you bargained for, is it?  If you’d like to leave, I won’t be offended.

MARK

I don’t know.  Maybe I should.  (They stare at each other for a moment, almost daring each other. Mark looks around.)  So, this is the Dakota, huh?  The world famous Dakota.  Boy—a lot of history in these walls.  Leonard Bernstein (pronounced “bern-steen.”) lived here, right? 

EARL

Stein. (Pronounced “stine”.)

MARK

Stein?  (Pronounced “stine.”)  He used to throw big parties with people like Stephen Sondheim, Jerome Robbins, Comden & Green—I’ve read about that.  And of course John Lennon was killed downstairs out in front, right?  I bet the widow Yoko’s still roaming around one of these apartments.  Doesn’t Lauren Bacall still live here, too?

EARL

Why yes, dear Betty.

MARK

You call her Betty?  All right, I’ll come clean with you.  I’m a bit of a history buff and a big fan of architecture.  I’ve never seen the inside of this place.  Never thought I’d get the chance.  So when you said you lived here, I figured—what the hell?  Even if things didn’t work out, at least I’d get to see the inside of the Dakota.

EARL

Ha—so we both fibbed a little!  That makes me feel better.  Well, feel free to look around!  What do you think?

MARK

(Looks around a bit.  Perhaps walks around and inspects things.  Finally speaks, looking bewildered.)  Can I be honest with you?

EARL

Mark, after that baptism by fire, I would say that for the rest of our lives, we must always tell each other the truth.

MARK

For the rest of our lives?   I just stopped by for—you know. 

EARL

You never know where life will take you.

MARK

But . . .

EARL

(Cutting him off.)  So go ahead and be honest with me.  You were about to say . . .?

MARK

It looks a little shabby to me.  I mean, I pictured magnificent rooms, like a palace in Europe.  This place is kind of a mess.

EARL

Oh, that’s my fault.  I never have guests anymore and I’m just not a very good housekeeper.  Arthur would chide me mercilessly about it, but I’d tell him to go straighten things up himself if it meant that much to him.  We were never able to keep a cleaning woman, because none of them were ever up to Arthur’s standards.  So now here I am with neither a cleaning woman nor the ability to keep the place as neat as it should be.

MARK

Who’s Arthur?

EARL

(Proudly.)  Arthur was my lover.  (Shows Mark the photo.)  What you’d call “my partner” these days, I suppose.  Of course, I never referred to him as my lover back then.  We just used to say we were roommates.  It sounded so collegial, as if we were all living in one big friendly dormitory.

MARK

(Takes the picture away from Earl and lays it down indifferently on the table.) I bet this was a stunning place back then!

EARL

Oh, it was just a big old dump!  (Pointing to an armchair.)  Why don’t you sit down?  (Mark sits.)  It was filthy!  The elevators were always breaking down and there were mice in the walls.  It was no big deal to get an apartment here back then.  And the mix of tenants was so eclectic, no one took any notice of two young fairies setting up house together. 

MARK

(Clearly disappointed.)  I just would have thought . . .

EARL

(Seeing Mark’s disappointment.)  Well, of course it was very grand when it first opened, but it was already an old building by the time we moved in.  It was the fifties.  The war was well behind us and people wanted new things.  (His hand sweeps upward.)  High-rises, like that white monstrosity next door.  But all things move in cycles, so now I gather we’re back in fashion.

MARK

Are you kidding?  I bet these apartments sell for millions now.

EARL

I wouldn’t know.  I don’t inquire about these things and I have no intention of selling.  Where would I go?  Anyway, Arthur and I moved in—and we had a wonderful life here for thirty-five years.  You say you’re a fan of architecture—well, I was an architect at a firm in midtown for years.  Arthur was an entertainment lawyer.  Our parties were legendary!  We brought people together from down the hall and around the world.  Artists.  Politicians.  Entertainers.  A real mix—gay and straight.  Oh, the stories I could tell!  (Sighs)  But—it all came to a crashing halt when Arthur got sick.  He was ill for ten years, so we stopped entertaining in our usual grand fashion.  Toward the end, we couldn’t entertain at all, much less go out.  By the time he died, I’d already taken early retirement.  I guess I just gradually became a bit of a recluse.  Almost never left the apartment.  You wouldn’t believe how quickly the newspapers piled up.  For five years I hardly saw anyone.  Couldn’t.

MARK

You seem like such a friendly guy.  How could you just shut the world out like that?

EARL

Arthur was my life.  I don’t mean I was co-dependent, or anything like that, but our lives became all intertwined, like—like two saplings that grow together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.  Pardon my bad poetry.  Just a habit I’ve developed—but if you like anything you hear, feel free to send it off to Hallmark Cards—we’ll split the royalties.  Anyway, half the things you see are Arthur’s.  He’s in most of the photos.  At first, I was just too sad to go out or see anyone.  People eventually got the hint and left me alone.  And TV can be so addictive—do you watch All My Children?  (Mark smirks or shrugs indifferently.)  Oh, it’s very good!  By the time I even thought about renewing my old friendships or meeting new people, it all just seemed too daunting.  But then one day I bought a computer—I don’t know what possessed me—and everything changed.  Thanks to AOL and those chat rooms—you know, M4M, “men for men”—I’ve met all sorts of new people.  Now I’ve got lots of friends.  They’re invisible, of course, but they’re my friends nevertheless.  I finally decided to screw up my courage and meet one of them—and now here you are, my very first visitor.  (Suddenly self-conscious.)  Enough about me!  Who are you?

MARK

Oh, I don’t usually like talking about myself.  I mean, I have to keep certain things private.

EARL

Do you work for the CIA?

MARK

(Laughs.)  No, nothing like that.  But if I did, I couldn’t tell you anyway, could I?  Or if I told you, I’d have to kill you.  (Shoots a menacing glance at Earl, who looks distressed for a moment before finally smiling in response to the joke.)  No, you see—I don’t know—I’ve got a great life.  I’ve got this whole suburban family thing going on up in Stamford—a wife, three kids, a nice house and all that.  But down here in the city—I work down here; I’m an accountant.  Well—down here—I act out. 

EARL

What do you mean?

MARK

I mean, I sneak around with men.  Mostly at the gym at lunch.  The steam room.  Do you have any idea what goes on in there?

EARL

I’ve heard a thing or two in my time.

MARK

And sometimes I go to guys’ apartments after work.  It’s not pretty, I know.  But there it is.  (Pauses.)  Well, to be honest, that’s the way things used to be.  It’s all starting to slow down now that my looks are slipping.  

EARL

Nonsense!  You’re a very attractive young man.

MARK

Thanks, but I know what I see in the mirror.  Believe me—they’re slipping.  Straight guys don’t have to worry about that, but it makes a big difference in the steam room.  I used to attract guys who were just amazing!  Made me feel like king of the world.  But now—Jesus, sometimes I find myself making passes at guys I wouldn’t have even looked at a few years ago! (Looks right at Earl, then self-consciously turns away.)  And then along came AOL and—presto—just like you, I was suddenly back in demand again.  I’ve got friends all over the country.  When I come home at night, there are dozens of emails waiting for me.  Sometimes I come across guys in chat rooms who go to my gym and we make dates to get together in the steam room.  If I don’t like what shows up, I just don’t identify myself.  And then there are the guys who invite me over for lunchtime sex.    

EARL

And that’s what you were expecting with me.

MARK

Not really.  Maybe.  It doesn’t always work out.  I told you it doesn’t matter.  I’m happy to make your acquaintance.  Anyway, that’s my life in a nutshell—the wife, the kids, the house.  Metro North, work, the steam room, back to Stamford.  Six AM—start the whole damn thing over again.  It’s not much to brag about, I guess, but that’s my beautiful life.

EARL

(Sighs.)  I had no idea anyone still lived like that.  Seems a shame.  Isn’t it perfectly respectable to be gay nowadays?  At least in a place like New York?  You must be the last of a dying breed.

MARK

You’d be surprised.  The steam room’s full of married men acting up.  And most of my rendezvous are with married men.

EARL

Fascinating, yet sad.  (Mark’s watch or cell phone alarm sounds.)  Oh—what’s that?

MARK

Just my watch (or “cell phone”) telling me I better get back to work.  Can’t afford to take too many long lunches—not if I want to keep meeting my mortgage payments.  (Gets up and heads toward the door.)

EARL

(Accompanying Mark to the door.) Thanks for humoring an old man.

MARK

You’re not old.  Seventy-one’s not so . . . well, I guess it’s getting up there.  Anyway, it was my pleasure.  (He shakes Earl’s hand.)  It was an honor meeting you, sir.

EARL

Please—just call me Earl.  And it was my honor.  I don’t mind telling you—having you here this afternoon was the best thing that’s happened to me in ages.

MARK

(At the door.  Awkwardly.  Hesitating.)  I guess I’ll just go back to work then . . .

EARL

Well, yes, that’s what you said . . .  (They stare at each other.  Mark breaks the awkward mood of the moment by giving Earl a big friendly hug, but then makes a sudden sexual advance—perhaps a passionate kiss, perhaps a grab for Earl’s belt.  Earl pushes Mark away.)   Please—that’s not necessary! 

BLACKOUT

END OF EXCERPT