Death of a Salesman Page 9

  HOWARD [moving away, to the right]: That’s just the thing, Willy.

  WILLY: If I had forty dollars a week—that’s all I’d need. Forty dollars, Howard.

  HOWARD: Kid, I can’t take blood from a stone, I—

  WILLY [desperation is on him now]: Howard, the year Al Smith was nominated, your father came to me and—

  HOWARD [starting to go off ]: I’ve got to see some people, kid.

  WILLY [stopping him]: I’m talking about your father! There were promises made across this desk! You mustn’t tell me you’ve got people to see—I put thirty-four years into this firm, Howard, and now I can’t pay my insurance! You can’t eat the orange and throw the peel away—a man is not a piece of fruit! [After a pause] Now pay attention. Your father—in 1928 I had a big year. I averaged a hundred and seventy dollars a week in commissions.

  HOWARD [impatiently]: Now, Willy, you never averaged—

  WILLY [banging his hand on the desk]: I averaged a hundred and seventy dollars a week in the year of 1928! And your father came to me—or rather, I was in the office here—it was right over this desk—and he put his hand on my shoulder—

  HOWARD [ getting up]: You’ll have to excuse me, Willy, I gotta see some people. Pull yourself together. [Going out] I’ll be back in a little while.

  [On HOWARD’S exit, the light on his chair grows very bright and strange.]

  WILLY: Pull myself together! What the hell did I say to him? My God, I was yelling at him! How could I! [WILLY breaks off, staring at the light, which occupies the chair, animating it. He approaches this chair, standing across the desk from it.] Frank, Frank, don’t you remember what you told me that time? How you put your hand on my shoulder, and Frank . . . [He leans on the desk and as he speaks the dead man’s name he accidentally switches on the recorder, and instantly—]

  HOWARD’S SON: “. . . of New York is Albany. The capital of Ohio is Cincinnati, the capital of Rhode Island is . . .” [The recitation continues.]

  WILLY [leaping away with fright, shouting]: Ha! Howard! Howard! Howard!

  HOWARD [rushing in]: What happened?

  WILLY [pointing at the machine, which continues nasally, childishly, with the capital cities]: Shut it off! Shut it off!

  HOWARD [pulling the plug out]: Look, Willy . . .

  WILLY [pressing his hands to his eyes]: I gotta get myself some coffee. I’ll get some coffee . . .

  [WILLY starts to walk out. HOWARD stops him.]

  HOWARD [rolling up the cord]: Willy, look . . .

  WILLY: I’ll go to Boston.

  HOWARD: Willy, you can’t go to Boston for us.

  WILLY: Why can’t I go?

  HOWARD: I don’t want you to represent us. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now.

  WILLY: Howard, are you firing me?

  HOWARD: I think you need a good long rest, Willy.

  WILLY: Howard—

  HOWARD: And when you feel better, come back, and we’ll see if we can work something out.

  WILLY: But I gotta earn money, Howard. I’m in no position to—

  HOWARD: Where are your sons? Why don’t your sons give you a hand?

  WILLY: They’re working on a very big deal.

  HOWARD: This is no time for false pride, Willy. You go to your sons and you tell them that you’re tired. You’ve got two great boys, haven’t you?

  WILLY: Oh, no question, no question, but in the meantime . . .

  HOWARD: Then that’s that, heh?

  WILLY: All right, I’ll go to Boston tomorrow.

  HOWARD: No, no.

  WILLY: I can’t throw myself on my sons. I’m not a cripple!

  HOWARD: Look, kid, I’m busy this morning.

  WILLY [ grasping HOWARD’S arm]: Howard, you’ve got to let me go to Boston!

  HOWARD [hard, keeping himself under control]: I’ve got a line of people to see this morning. Sit down, take five minutes, and pull yourself together, and then go home, will ya? I need the office, Willy. [He starts to go, turns, remembering the recorder, starts to push off the table holding the recorder.] Oh, yeah. Whenever you can this week, stop by and drop off the samples. You’ll feel better, Willy, and then come back and we’ll talk. Pull yourself together, kid, there’s people outside.

  [HOWARD exits, pushing the table off left. WILLY stares into space, exhausted. Now the music is heard—BEN’S music—first distantly, then closer, closer. As WILLY speaks, BEN enters from the right. He carries valise and umbrella.]

  WILLY: Oh, Ben, how did you do it? What is the answer? Did you wind up the Alaska deal already?

  BEN: Doesn’t take much time if you know what you’re doing. Just a short business trip. Boarding ship in an hour. Wanted to say good-bye.

  WILLY: Ben, I’ve got to talk to you.

  BEN [ glancing at his watch]: Haven’t the time, William.

  WILLY [crossing the apron to BEN]: Ben, nothing’s working out. I don’t know what to do.

  BEN: Now, look here, William. I’ve bought timberland in Alaska and I need a man to look after things for me.

  WILLY: God, timberland! Me and my boys in those grand outdoors!

  BEN: You’ve a new continent at your doorstep, William. Get out of these cities, they’re full of talk and time payments and courts of law. Screw on your fists and you can fight for a fortune up there.

  WILLY: Yes, yes! Linda, Linda!

  [LINDA enters as of old, with the wash.]

  LINDA: Oh, you’re back?

  BEN: I haven’t much time.

  WILLY: No, wait! Linda, he’s got a proposition for me in Alaska.

  LINDA: But you’ve got—[To BEN] He’s got a beautiful job here.

  WILLY: But in Alaska, kid, I could—

  LINDA: You’re doing well enough, Willy!

  BEN [to LINDA]: Enough for what, my dear?

  LINDA [ frightened of BEN and angry at him]: Don’t say those things to him! Enough to be happy right here, right now. [To WILLY, while BEN laughs] Why must everybody conquer the world? You’re well liked, and the boys love you, and someday—[to BEN]—why, old man Wagner told him just the other day that if he keeps it up he’ll be a member of the firm, didn’t he, Willy?

  WILLY: Sure, sure. I am building something with this firm, Ben, and if a man is building something he must be on the right track, mustn’t he?

  BEN: What are you building? Lay your hand on it. Where is it?

  WILLY [hesitantly]: That’s true, Linda, there’s nothing.

  LINDA: Why? [To BEN] There’s a man eighty-four years old—

  WILLY: That’s right, Ben, that’s right. When I look at that man I say, what is there to worry about?

  BEN: Bah!

  WILLY: It’s true, Ben. All he has to do is go into any city, pick up the phone, and he’s making his living and you know why?

  BEN [picking up his valise]: I’ve got to go.

  WILLY [holding BEN back]: Look at this boy!

  [BIFF, in his high school sweater, enters carrying suitcase. HAPPY carries BIFF’S shoulder guards, gold helmet, and football pants.]

  WILLY: Without a penny to his name, three great universities are begging for him, and from there the sky’s the limit, because it’s not what you do, Ben. It’s who you know and the smile on your face! It’s contacts, Ben, contacts! The whole wealth of Alaska passes over the lunch table at the Commodore Hotel, and that’s the wonder, the wonder of this country, that a man can end with diamonds here on the basis of being liked! [He turns to BIFF.] And that’s why when you get out on that field today it’s important. Because thousands of people will be rooting for you and loving you. [To BEN, who has again begun to leave] And Ben! when he walks into a business office his name will sound out like a bell and all the doors will open to him! I’ve seen it, Ben, I’ve seen it a thousand times! You can’t feel it with your hand like timber, but it’s there!

  BEN: Good-bye, William.

  WILLY: Ben, am I right? Don’t you think I’m right? I value your advice.

  BEN: There’s a n
ew continent at your doorstep, William. You could walk out rich. Rich! [He is gone.]

  WILLY: We’ll do it here, Ben! You hear me? We’re gonna do it here!

  [Young BERNARD rushes in. The gay music of the boys is heard.]

  BERNARD: Oh, gee, I was afraid you left already!

  WILLY: Why? What time is it?

  BERNARD: It’s half-past one!

  WILLY: Well, come on, everybody! Ebbets Field next stop! Where’s the pennants? [He rushes through the wall-line of the kitchen and out into the living-room.]

  LINDA [to BIFF]: Did you pack fresh underwear?

  BIFF [who has been limbering up]: I want to go!

  BERNARD: Biff, I’m carrying your helmet, ain’t I?

  HAPPY: No, I’m carrying the helmet.

  BERNARD: Oh, Biff, you promised me.

  HAPPY: I’m carrying the helmet.

  BERNARD: How am I going to get in the locker room?

  LINDA: Let him carry the shoulder guards. [She puts her coat and hat on in the kitchen.]

  BERNARD: Can I, Biff? ’Cause I told everybody I’m going to be in the locker room.

  HAPPY: In Ebbets Field it’s the clubhouse.

  BERNARD: I meant the clubhouse. Biff!

  HAPPY: Biff!

  BIFF [grandly, after a slight pause]: Let him carry the shoulder guards.

  HAPPY [as he gives BERNARD the shoulder guards]: Stay close to us now.

  [WILLY rushes in with the pennants.]

  WILLY [handing them out]: Everybody wave when Biff comes out on the field. [HAPPY and BERNARD run off.] You set now, boy?

  [The music has died away.]

  BIFF: Ready to go, Pop. Every muscle is ready.

  WILLY [at the edge of the apron]: You realize what this means?

  BIFF: That’s right, Pop.

  WILLY [ feeling BIFF’S muscles]: You’re comin’ home this afternoon captain of the All-Scholastic Championship Team of the City of New York.

  BIFF: I got it, Pop. And remember, pal, when I take off my helmet, that touchdown is for you.

  WILLY: Let’s go! [He is starting out, with his arm around BIFF, when CHARLEY enters, as of old, in knickers.] I got no room for you, Charley.

  CHARLEY: Room? For what?

  WILLY: In the car.

  CHARLEY: You goin’ for a ride? I wanted to shoot some casino.

  WILLY [ furiously]: Casino! [Incredulously] Don’t you realize what today is?

  LINDA: Oh, he knows, Willy. He’s just kidding you.

  WILLY: That’s nothing to kid about!

  CHARLEY: No. Linda, what’s goin’ on?

  LINDA: He’s playing in Ebbets Field.

  CHARLEY: Baseball in this weather?

  WILLY: Don’t talk to him. Come on, come on! [He is pushing them out.]

  CHARLEY: Wait a minute, didn’t you hear the news?

  WILLY: What?

  CHARLEY: Don’t you listen to the radio? Ebbets Field just blew up.

  WILLY: You go to hell! [CHARLEY laughs. Pushing them out] Come on, come on! We’re late.

  CHARLEY [as they go]: Knock a homer, Biff, knock a homer!

  WILLY [the last to leave, turning to CHARLEY]: I don’t think that was funny, Charley. This is the greatest day of his life.

  CHARLEY: Willy, when are you going to grow up?

  WILLY: Yeah, heh? When this game is over, Charley, you’ll be laughing out of the other side of your face. They’ll be calling him another Red Grange. Twenty-five thousand a year.

  CHARLEY [kidding]: Is that so?

  WILLY: Yeah, that’s so.

  CHARLEY: Well, then, I’m sorry, Willy. But tell me something.

  WILLY: What?

  CHARLEY: Who is Red Grange?

  WILLY: Put up your hands. Goddam you, put up your hands!

  [CHARLEY, chuckling, shakes his head and walks away, around the left corner of the stage. WILLY follows him. The music rises to a mocking frenzy.]

  WILLY: Who the hell do you think you are, better than everybody else? You don’t know everything, you big, ignorant, stupid . . . Put up your hands!

  [Light rises, on the right side of the forestage, on a small table in the reception room of CHARLEY’S office. Traffic sounds are heard. BERNARD, now mature, sits whistling to himself. A pair of tennis rackets and an overnight bag are on the floor beside him.]

  WILLY [offstage]: What are you walking away for? Don’t walk away! If you’re going to say something say it to my face! I know you laugh at me behind my back. You’ll laugh out of the other side of your goddam face after this game. Touchdown! Touchdown! Eighty thousand people! Touchdown! Right between the goal posts.

  [BERNARD is a quiet, earnest, but self-assured young man. WILLY’S voice is coming from right upstage now. BERNARD lowers his feet off the table and listens. JENNY, his father’s secretary, enters.]

  JENNY [distressed]: Say, Bernard, will you go out in the hall?

  BERNARD: What is that noise? Who is it?

  JENNY: Mr. Loman. He just got off the elevator.

  BERNARD [ getting up]: Who’s he arguing with?

  JENNY: Nobody. There’s nobody with him. I can’t deal with him any more, and your father gets all upset everytime he comes. I’ve got a lot of typing to do, and your father’s waiting to sign it. Will you see him?

  WILLY [entering]: Touchdown! Touch—[He sees JENNY.] Jenny, Jenny, good to see you. How’re ya? Workin’? Or still honest?

  JENNY: Fine. How’ve you been feeling?

  WILLY: Not much any more, Jenny. Ha, ha! [He is surprised to see the rackets.]

  BERNARD: Hello, Uncle Willy.

  WILLY [almost shocked]: Bernard! Well, look who’s here!

  [He comes quickly, guiltily, to BERNARD and warmly shakes his hand.]

  BERNARD: How are you? Good to see you.

  WILLY: What are you doing here?

  BERNARD: Oh, just stopped by to see Pop. Get off my feet till my train leaves. I’m going to Washington in a few minutes.

  WILLY: Is he in?

  BERNARD: Yes, he’s in his office with the accountant. Sit down.

  WILLY [sitting down]: What’re you going to do in Washington?

  BERNARD: Oh, just a case I’ve got there, Willy.

  WILLY: That so? [Indicating the rackets] You going to play tennis there?

  BERNARD: I’m staying with a friend who’s got a court.

  WILLY: Don’t say. His own tennis court. Must be fine people, I bet.

  BERNARD: They are, very nice. Dad tells me Biff ’s in town.

  WILLY [with a big smile]: Yeah, Biff ’s in. Working on a very big deal, Bernard.

  BERNARD: What’s Biff doing?

  WILLY: Well, he’s been doing very big things in the West. But he decided to establish himself here. Very big. We’re having dinner. Did I hear your wife had a boy?

  BERNARD: That’s right. Our second.

  WILLY: Two boys! What do you know!

  BERNARD: What kind of a deal has Biff got?

  WILLY: Well, Bill Oliver—very big sporting-goods man —he wants Biff very badly. Called him in from the West. Long distance, carte blanche, special deliveries. Your friends have their own private tennis court?

  BERNARD: You still with the old firm, Willy?

  WILLY [after a pause]: I’m—I’m overjoyed to see how you made the grade, Bernard, overjoyed. It’s an encouraging thing to see a young man really—really—Looks very good for Biff—very—[He breaks off, then] Bernard—[He is so full of emotion, he breaks off again.]

  BERNARD: What is it, Willy?

  WILLY [small and alone]: What—what’s the secret?

  BERNARD: What secret?

  WILLY: How—how did you? Why didn’t he ever catch on?

  BERNARD: I wouldn’t know that, Willy.

  WILLY [confidentially, desperately]: You were his friend, his boyhood friend. There’s something I don’t understand about it. His life ended after that Ebbets Field game. From the age of seventeen nothing good ever happened to him.

  BERNARD: He never
trained himself for anything.

  WILLY: But he did, he did. After high school he took so many correspondence courses. Radio mechanics; television; God knows what, and never made the slightest mark.

  BERNARD [taking off his glasses]: Willy, do you want to talk candidly?

  WILLY [rising, faces BERNARD]: I regard you as a very brilliant man, Bernard. I value your advice.

  BERNARD: Oh, the hell with the advice, Willy. I couldn’t advise you. There’s just one thing I’ve always wanted to ask you. When he was supposed to graduate, and the math teacher flunked him—

  WILLY: Oh, that son-of-a-bitch ruined his life.

  BERNARD: Yeah, but, Willy, all he had to do was to go to summer school and make up that subject.

  WILLY: That’s right, that’s right.

  BERNARD: Did you tell him not to go to summer school?

  WILLY: Me? I begged him to go. I ordered him to go!

  BERNARD: Then why wouldn’t he go?

  WILLY: Why? Why! Bernard, that question has been trailing me like a ghost for the last fifteen years. He flunked the subject, and laid down and died like a hammer hit him!

  BERNARD: Take it easy, kid.

  WILLY: Let me talk to you—I got nobody to talk to. Bernard, Bernard, was it my fault? Y’see? It keeps going around in my mind, maybe I did something to him. I got nothing to give him.

  BERNARD: Don’t take it so hard.

  WILLY: Why did he lay down? What is the story there? You were his friend!

  BERNARD: Willy, I remember, it was June, and our grades came out. And he’d flunked math.

  WILLY: That son-of-a-bitch!

  BERNARD: No, it wasn’t right then. Biff just got very angry, I remember, and he was ready to enroll in summer school.

  WILLY [surprised]: He was?

  BERNARD: He wasn’t beaten by it at all. But then, Willy, he disappeared from the block for almost a month. And I got the idea that he’d gone up to New England to see you. Did he have a talk with you then?