Philadelphia, Here I Come!, Brian Friel

The two Gars, Public Gar and Private Gar, are two views of the one man. Public Gar is the Gar that people see, talk to, talk about. Private Gar is the unseen man, the man within, the conscience, the later ego, the secret thoughts, the id. Private Gar, the spirit, is invisible to everybody, always. Nobody except Public Gar hears him talk. But even Public Gar, although he talks to Private Gar occassionally, never sees him and never looks at him. One cannot look at one's alter ego.
Episode I

GAR (singing). 'Philadelphia, here I come, right back where I started from...'
PUBLIC. 'Where bowers of flowers bloom in the spring' -
PUBLIC. Will you miss me?
PUBLIC. Which means that on my last day with him he got ten minutes' overtime out of my hide. (He releases Madge.) Instead of saying to me: (grandly) 'Gar, my son, since you are leaving for ever, you may have the entire day free,' what does he do? Lines up five packs of flour and says: (in flat dreary tones) 'Make them into two-pound pokes.'
PRIVATE (off, in echo-chamber voice). And it's all about to begin. It's all over.
PRIVATE. Gareth Mary O'Donnell.
Public springs to attention, salutes, and holds this absurd military stance.
PRIVATE. Of going to a profane, irreligious, pagan country of gross materialism?
PRIVATE. Where the devil himself holds sway, and lust -- abhorrent lust -- is everywhere indulged in shamelessly?
Public winks extravagently and nudges an imaginary man beside him.
PUBLIC. Whether he says good-bye to me or not, or whether he slips me a few miserable quid or not, it's a matter of total indifference to me, Madge.
MADGE. And another thing: just because he doesn't say much doesn't mean he hasn't feeling like the rest of us.
MADGE. He said nothing either when your mother died.
PRIVATE (in heavy US accent). I'm Patrick Palinakis, president of the biggest chain of the biggest hotels in the world. We're glad to have you, Mr O'Donnell.
PRIVATE. Would you care to tell me why you abandoned your academic career, Mr O'Donnell?
PRIVATE. She was nineteen and he was forty, and he owned a shop, and he wore a soft hat, and she thought he was the grandest gentleman that ever lived, Madge says; and he -- he couldn't take his eyes off her, Madge says...
PRIVATE. Remember -- that was Kate's tune. You needn't pretend you have forgotten. And it reminds you of the night the two of you made all the plans, and you thought your heart would burst with happiness.
PRIVATE (quietly, rapidly insisting). Are you going to take her photograph to the States with you? When are you going to say good-bye to her? Will you write to her? Will you send her cards and photographs? You loved her once, old rooster; you wanted so much to marry her that it was a bloody sickness. Tell me, randy boy; tell me the truth: do you still love her? Well, do you? Do you? Do you?
PUBLIC (softy). Kate... sweet Katie Doogan... my darling Kathy Doogan...
PRIVATE (in same soft tone). Aul bitch. (loudly) Rotten aul snobby bitch! Just like her stinking rotten father and mother -- a bugger and a buggeress -- a buggeroo and a buggerette!!
PUBLIC. No, no; my fault -- all my fault --
KATE. Please. This is serious.
KATE. You'll have to see about getting more money.
PUBLIC. ... I have a -- a-a source of income that he knows nothing about -- that nobody knows nothing about -- knows anything about.
PUBLIC. Well, I buy eggs direct from the farms and sell them privately to McLaughlin's Hotel -- (winks) -- for a handsome profit -- (quickly) -- but he knows nothing about it.
KATE. We'll go now, rightaway, and tell them.
KATE. That you want their permission to marry me next week.
DOOGAN. Didn't she tell you? No, I can see she didn't.
PRIVATE. O God, the aul bitch! Cripes you look a right fool standing there -- the father of fourteen children! -- Get out, you eegit you! Get out! Get out quick before the others come in and die laughing at you! And all the time she must have known -- the aul bitch! -- And you promised to give her breakfast in bed every morning! And you told her about the egg money!
DOOGAN. ... (awkwardly, with sincerity) Kate is our only child, Gareth, and her happiness is all that is important to us --
DOOGAN. Just in case you should think that her mother or I were... in case you might have the idea...
PUBLIC (rapidly). Good night, Mr Doogan. (Public rushes off.)
KATE. But didn't he -- did he -- ?
DOOGAN. No, he didn't.
PRIVATE (wearily). ... What I mean to say like, you took it sort of bad, between you and me and the wall, as the fella says --
PRIVATE. But then there's more fish in the sea, as the fella says, and they're all the same when they're upside down; and between you and me and the wall, the first thing you would have had to do would have been to give the boot to Daddy Senator.
PUBLIC. Tethered by the toilet. Tragic.
MADGE. Gee, Mary, and Jay! Will you quit them antics!
PRIVATE. And now what are you sad about? Just because she lives for those Mulhern children, and gives them whatever few half-pence she has? Madge, Madge, I think I love you more than any of them. Give me a pence of your courage, Madge.
S.B. Another day over.
S.B. I suppose we can't complain.
PRIVATE. ... Now, even though you refuse to acknowledge the fact, Screwballs, I'm leaving you for ever. I'm going to Philadelphia, to work in an hotel. And you know why I'm going, Screwballs, don't you. Because I'm twenty-five, and you treat me as if I were five -- I can't order even a dozen loaves without getting your permission. Because you pay me less than you pay Madge. But worse, far worse than that Screwballs, because -- we embarrass one another.
MADGE (irony). The chatting in this place would deafen a body. Won't the house be quiet soon enough -- long enough? (She shuffles off with the plate.)
PRIVATE. ... Why? Why do you think we're all s-m's? Well, because none of us is married. Because we're never done boasting about the number of hot courts we know -- and the point is we're all virgins. Because --
BOYLE. You're doing the right thing, of course. You'll never regret it. I gather it's a vast restless place that doesn't give a curse about the past; and that's the way things should be. Impermanence and anonymity -- it offers great attractions. You've heard the latest to-do?
BOYLE. But the point is he can't sack me! The organization's behind me and he can't budge me. Still, it's a... a bitter victory to hold on to a job when your manager wants rid of you.
BOYLE. By the way -- (producing a small book) a -- little something to remind you of your old teacher -- my poems --
BOYLE. But I would suggest that you strike out on your own as soon as you find your feet out there. Don't keep looking back over your shoulder. Be one hundred per cent American.
PRIVATE. For God's sake get a grip on yourself!
TOGETHER. 'Philadelphia, here I come.'

Episode II

PRIVATE. Uncle Con and Aunt Lizzy. Who made the whole thing possible. Read her letter again -- strictly for belly-laughs.
PUBLIC. You will begin at the Emperor Hotel on Monday 23rd which is only about twenty minutes away.
LIZZY. He gives us this apartment. He gives us dough. He gives us three meals a day -- until bonzo (Con) finally gets himself this job. Looks after us like we were his own skin and bone. Right, honey?
PUBLIC. That day my father and mother got married.
LIZZY. ... And Mother, poor Mother, may God be good to her, she thought that just because Marie got this guy with a big store we should all of got guys with big stores. And poor Marie -- we were so alike in every way, Marie and me. But he was good to her. I'll say that for S.B. O'Donnell -- real good to her. Where the hell is he anyhow? Why will S.B. O'Donnell, my brother-in-law, not meet me?
CON. He (Public) told you -- he's away at a wedding.
PUBLIC. Senator Doogan's daughter.
CON. The job's as good as you'll get and we'd be proud to have you.
LIZZY. Sure! Sure! Typical Irish! He will think about it! And while he's thinking about it the store falls in about his head! What age are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? What are you waiting for? For S.B. to run away to sea? Until the weather gets better?
LIZZY. Thank you, Ben. A great friend with a great intellect. Only one thing wrong with Ben Burton: he's a black Baptist.
LIZZY (to Public). And that's why I say to you: America's Gawd's own country. Ben?
LIZZY. He's my sister's boy -- the only child of five girls of us --
PUBLIC (impetuously). I want to go to America -- if you'll have me --
PRIVATE (quietly, deliberately). You don't want to go, laddybuck. Admit it. You don't want to go.
MADGE. 'The Boys!' Couldn't even come here to say good-bye to you on your last night.
PUBLIC (happily). They were on their way here when I ran into them.
PUBLIC. You were never out with big Annie McFadden in your puff, man.
NED. Liveliest wee tramps I ever laid!
PRIVATE. We were all there that night, Ned.
PUBLIC. And you can count me out. I've an early start.
NED (casually from the door). So long, Gar. You know the aul rule -- If you can't be good...
NED (shyly, awkwardly) By the way, Gar, since I'll not see you again before you go --
JOE. Sure you know yourself they'll hang about the gable of the hotel and chat and do nothing.
JOE. Lucky bloody man. I wish I was you.
JOE. Only that the mammy planted sycamores trees last year, and she says I can't go till they're tall enough to shelter the house.
JOE. Good luck, Gar. And tell Madge that the next time she asks us up for tea we'd bloody well better get it.
PUBLIC. She asked you?
KATE. I hear you're off to America.
PRIVATE. She's a married woman, you bugger!
KATE. You'll do well, Gar; make a lot of money, and come back here in twenty years' time, and buy the whole village.
KATE. I hope you're very happy there and that life will be good to you.
PUBLIC. Answerable to nobody! All this bloody yap about father and son and all this sentimental rubbish about 'homeland' and 'birthplace' -- yap! Bloody yap! Impermanence -- anonymity -- that's what I'm looking for; a vast restless place that doesn't give a damn about the past. To hell with Ballybeg, that's what I say!
PRIVATE. Kate... sweet Katie Doogan... my darling Kathy Doogan...
PUBLIC (in a whispered shout). Screwballs, say something! Say something, father!

Episode III, Part One

PRIVATE. ... You'd need to be careful out there, boy; some of those Yankee women are dynamic. But you'll never marry; never; bachelor's written all over you. Fated to be alone, a man without intimates; something of an enigma. Who is he, this silent one? Where is he from? Where does he go? Every night we see him walking beneath the trees along the bank of the canal, his black coat swinging beside him, his eyes lost in thought, his servant following him at a respectable distance.
(in reply) Who is he? I'll tell you who he is: The Bachelor. All the same, laddybuck, there are compensations in being a bachelor. You'll age slowly and graciously, and then, perhaps, when you're quite old -- about forty-three -- you'll meet this beautiful girl of nineteen, and you'll fall madly in love. Karin -- that's her name -- no -- ah -- ah -- Tamara --
PRIVATE. ... -- and then, then for no reason at all except that you were happy too, you began to sing: (Sings.)
All round my hat I'll wear a green coloured ribbono,
All round my hat for a twelve month and a day.
And if anybody asks me the reason why I wear it,
It's because my true love is far, far away.
PRIVATE. Go on! Ask him! He must remember!
PRIVATE. Bugger the Canon!
CANON. She says I wait till the rosary's over and the kettle's on... hee-hee-hee.
S.B. Black or white, Canon?
S.B. Usual stakes, Canon?
PUBLIC. Why did my mother marry him (S.B.) instead of Master Boyle?
MADGE. ... And for any other nosing about you want to do, ask the Boss. For you're not going to pump me. (She goes off.)
S.B. All he asks is to sit in there and play them records all day.
S.B. Tomorrow morning.
CANON. Ah-hah. There's hope for you yet.
S.B. I don't know is there.

Episode III, Part Two

S.B. Aye -- I -- I -- I -- I wasn't sleeping. What has you up?
PRIVATE. You're doing grand. Keep at it. It's the silence that's the enemy.
S.B. I was thinking it -- it -- it -- it would be a fair enough day for going up in thon plane.
PUBLIC (with pretend carelessness). D'you know what kept coming into my mind the day?
PUBLIC (more quickly). There used to be a blue boat on it -- d'you remember it?
S.B. 'All Round My Hat'? No, I don't think I ever knew that one. It wasn't 'The Flower of Sweet Strabane', was it? That was my song.
PRIVATE. So now you know: it never happened! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
S.B. It's not like the old days when the whole countryside did with me; I needed the help then. But it's different now. I'll manage by myself now. Eh? I'll manage fine, eh?
S.B. I was too old for her, Madge, eh?
MADGE. ... That'll get him a cup of tea on the plane. I had put them two pounds by me to get my feet done on the fair day. But I can wait till next month. From what I hear, there's no big dances between now and then...
PUBLIC. Madge -- Madge, you'd let me know if -- if he got sick or anything?
PRIVATE. ... God, Boy, why do you have to leave? Why? Why?
PUBLIC. I don't know. I -- I -- I don't know.