Please check the instruction I uploaded and the link I uploaded!  LeRoi Jones/Amiri Baraka:  Read bi

Dutchman

Amiri
Baraka


1964


CHARACTERS


CLAY,
twenty‐year‐old
Negro


LULA,
thirty‐year‐old
white
woman


RIDERS
OF
COACH,
white
and
black
YOUNG
NEGRO



CONDUCTOR






In
the
flying
underbelly
of
the
city
Steaming
hot,
and
summer
on
top,
outside.
Underground.
The
subway
heaped

in
modern
myth.




Opening
scene
is
a
man
sitting
in
a
subway
seat,
holding
a
magazine
but
looking
vacantly
just
above
its
wilting

pages.
 Occasionally
 he
 looks
 blankly
 toward
 the
 window
 on
 his
 right.
 Dim
 lights
 and
 darkness
 whistling
 by

against
the
glass.
(Or
paste
the
lights,
as
admitted
props,
right
on
the
subway
windows.
Have
them
move,
even

dim
and
flicker.
But
give
the
sense
of
speed.
Also
stations,
whether
the
train
is
stopped
or
the
glitter
and
activity

of
these
stations
merely
flashes
by
the
windows.)




The
man
is
sitting
alone.
That
is,
only
his
seat
is
visible,
though
the
rest
of
the
car
is
outfitted
as
a
complete

subway
car.
But
only
his
seat
is
shown.
There
might
be,
for
a
time,
as
the
play
begins,
a
loud
scream
of
the
actual

train.
And
it
can
recur
throughout
the
play,
or
continue
on
a
lower
key
once
the
dialogue
starts.




The
train
slaws
after
a
time,
pulling
to
a
brief
stop
at
one
of
the
stations.
The
man
looks
idly
up,
until
he
sees
a

woman’s
face
staring
at
him
through
the
window;
when
it
realizes
that
the
man
has
noticed
the
face,
it
begins

very
premeditatedly
to
smile.
The
man
smiles
too,
for
a
moment,
without
a
trace
of
self­consciousness.
Almost
an

instinctive
though
undesirable
response.
Then
a
kind
of
awkwardness
or
embarrassment
sets
in,
and
the
man

makes
to
look
away,
is
further
embarrassed,
so
he
brings
back
his
eyes
to
where
the
face
was,
but
by
naw
the

train
is
moving
again,
and
the
face
would
seem
to
be
left
behind
by
the
way
the
man
turns
his
head
to
look
back

through
the
other
windows
at
the
slowly
fading
platform.
He
smiles
then;
more
comfortably
confident,
hoping

perhaps
that
his
memory
of
this
brief
encounter
will
be
pleasant.
And
then
he
is
idle
again.





Scene
I




Train
roars.
Lights
flash
outside
the
windows.


LULA
enters
from
the
rear
of
the
car
in
bright,
skimpy
summer
clothes
and
sandals.
She
carries
a
net
bag

full
of
paper
books,
fruit,
and
other
anonymous
articles.
She
is
wearing
sunglasses,
which
she
pushes
up
on

her
 forehead
 from
 time
 to
 time.
 LULA
 is
 a
 tall,
 slender,
 beautiful
 woman
 with
 long
 red
 hair
 hanging

straight
down
her
back,
wearing
only
loud
lipstick
in
some
body’s
good
taste.
She
is
eating
an
apple,
very

daintily.
Coming
down
the
car
toward
CLAY.
She
stops
beside
CLAY’S
seat
and
hangs
languidly
from
the

strap,
still
managing
to
eat
the
apple.
It
is
apparent
that
she
is
going
to
sit
in
the
seat
next
to
CLAY,
and

that
she
is
only
waiting
for
him
to
notice
her
before
she
sits.



CLAY
sits
as
before,
looking
just
beyond
his
magazine,
now
and
again
pulling
the
magazine
slowly
back
and

forth
in
front
of
his
face
in
a
hopeless
effort
to
fan
himself.
Then
he
sees
the
woman
hanging
there
beside

him
and
he
looks
up
into
her
face,
smiling
quizzically.



LULA
Hello.


CLAY
Uh,
hi’re
you?



LULA
I’m
going
to
sit
down
….
O.K.?


CLAY
Sure.


LULA
[Swings
down
onto
the
seat,
pushing
’her
legs
straight
out
as
if
she
is
very
weary]
Oooof!
Too
much


weight.


CLAY
Ha,
doesn’t
look
like
much
to
me.
[Leaning
back
against
the
window,
a
little
surprised
and
maybe
stiff]


LULA
It’s
so
anyway.
[And
she
moves
her
toes
in
the
sandals,
then
pulls
her
right
leg
up
on
the
left
knee,
better
to


inspect
the
bottoms
of
the
sandals
and
the
back
of
her
heel.
She
appears
for
a
second
not
to
notice
that

CLAY
is
sitting
next
to
her
or
that
she
has
spoken
to
him
just
a
second
before.
CLAY
looks
at
the
magazine,

then
out
the
black
window.
As
he
does
this,
she
turns
very
quickly
toward
him]
Weren’t
you
staring
at
me

through
the
window?



CLAY
[Wheeling
around
and
very
much
stiffened]
What?


LULA
Weren’t
you
staring
at
me
through
the
window?
At
the
last
stop?


CLAY
Staring
at
you?
What
do
you
mean?


LULA
Don’t
you
know
what
staring
means?


CLAY
I
saw
you
through
the
window
…
if
that’s
what
it
means.
I
don’t
know
if
I
was
staring.
Seems
to
me
you


were
staring
through
the
window
at
me.


LULA
I
was.
But
only
after
I’d
turned
around
and
saw
you
staring
through
that
window
down
in
the
vicinity
of


my
ass
and
legs.


CLAY
Really?


LULA
Really.
I
guess
you
were
just
taking
those
idle
potshots.
Nothing
else
to
do.
Run
your
mind
over
people’s


flesh.


CLAY
Oh
boy.
Wow,
now
I
admit
I
was
looking
in
your
direction.
But
the
rest
of
that
weight
is
yours.


LULA
I
suppose.


CLAY
Staring
through
train
windows
is
weird
business.
Much
weirder
than
staring
very
sedately
at
abstract


asses.


LULA
That’s
why
I
came
looking
through
the
window
…
so
you’d
have
more
than
that
to
go
on.
I
even
smiled


at
you.


CLAY
That’s
right.


LULA
I
even
got
into
this
train,
going
some
other
way
than
mine.
Walked
down
the
aisle
…
searching
you
out.


CLAY
Really?
That’s
pretty
funny.


LULA
That’s
pretty
funny:”
..
:
.
God,
you’re
dull.


CLAY
Well,
I’m
sorry,
lady,
but
I
really
wasn’t
prepared
for
party
talk.


LULA
No,
you’re
not.
What
are
you
prepared
for?
[Wrapping
the
apple
core
in
a
Kleenex
and
dropping
it
on
the


floor]


CLAY
[Takes
her
conversation
as
pure
sex
talk.
He
turns
to
confront
her
squarely
with
this
idea]
I’m
prepared
for


anything.
How
about
you?


LULA
[Laughing
loudly
and
cutting
it
off
abruptly]
What
do
you
think
you’re
doing?


CLAY
What?


LULA
You
think
I
want
to
pick
you
up,
get
you
to
take
me
somewhere
and
screw
me,
huh?


CLAY
Is
that
the
way
I
look?


LULA
You
look
like
you
been
trying
to
grow
a
beard.
That’s
exactly
what
you
look
like.
You
look
like
you
live


in
New
Jersey
with
your
parents
and
are
trying
to
grow
a
beard.
That’s
what.
You
look
like
you’ve
been

reading
Chinese
poetry
and
drinking
lukewarm
sugarless
tea.
[Laughs,
uncrossing
and
recrossing
her

legs]
You
look
like
death
eating
a
soda
cracker.



CLAY
[Cocking
his
head
from
one
side
to
the
other,
embarrassed
and
trying
to
make
some
comeback,
but
also

intrigued
by
what
the
woman
is
saying
..
even
the
sharp
city
coarseness
of
her
voice,
which
is
still
a
kind
of

gentle
sidewalk
throb]
Really?
I
look
like
all
that?



LULA
Not
all
of
it.
[She
feints
a
seriousness
to
cover
an
actual
somber
tone]
I
lie
a
lot.
[Smiling]
It
helps
me

control
the
world.



CLAY
[Relieved
and
laughing
louder
than
the
humor]
Yeah,
I
bet.


LULA
But
it’s
true,
most
of
it,
right?
Jersey?
Your
bumpy
neck?


CLAY
How’d
you
know
all
that?
Huh?
Really,
I
mean
about
Jersey
…
and
even
the
beard.
I
met
you
before?
You


know
Warren
Enright?


LULA
You
tried
to
make
it
with
your
sister
when
you
were
ten.
[CLAY
leans
back
hard
against
the
back
of
the


seat,
his
eyes
opening
now,
still
trying
to
look
amused]
But
I
succeeded
a
few
weeks
ago.
[She
starts
to


laugh
again]
CLAY
What’re
you
talking
about?
Warren
tell
you
that?
You’re
a
friend
of


Georgia’s?


LULA
I
told
you
I
lie.
I
don’t
know
your
sister.
I
don’t
know
Warren
Enright.


CLAY
You
mean
you’re
just
picking
these
things
out
of
the
air?


LULA
Is
Warren
Enright
a
tall
skinny
black
black
boy
with
a
phony
English
accent?


CLAY
I
figured
you
knew
him.


LULA
But
I
don’t.
I
just
figured
you
would
know
somebody
like
that.
[Laughs]


CLAY
Yeah,
yeah.


LULA
You’re
probably
on
your
way
to
his
house
now.


CLAY
That’s
right.


LULA
[Putting
her
hand
on
CLAY’S
closest
knee,
drawing
it
from
the
knee
up
to
the
thigh’s
hinge,
then
removing


it,
watching
his
face
very
closely,
and
continuing
to
laugh,
perhaps
more
gently
than
before]
Dull,
dull,
dull.

I
bet
you
think
I’m
exciting.



CLAY
You’re
O.K.


LULA
Am
I
exciting
you
now?


CLAY
Right.
That’s
not
what’s
supposed
to
happen?


LULA
How
do
I
know?
[She
returns
her
hand,
without
moving
it,
then
takes
it
away
and
plunges
it
in
her
bag
to


draw
out
an
apple]
You
want
this?


CLAY
Sure.


LULA
[She
gets
one
out
of
the
bag
for
herself]
Eating
apples
together
is
always
the
first
step.
Or
walking
up


uninhabited
Seventh
Avenue
in
the
twenties2
on
weekends.
[Bites
and
giggles,
glancing
at
Clay
and

speaking
in
loose
sing­song]
Can
get
you
involved
…
boy!
Get
us
involved.
Um‐huh.
[Mock
seriousness]

Would
you
like
to
get
involved
with
me,
Mister
Man?



CLAY
[Trying
to
be
as
flippant
as
LULA,
whacking
happily
at
the
apple]
Sure.
Why
not?
A
beautiful
woman

like
you.
Huh,
I’d
be
a
fool
not
to.



LULA
And
I
bet
you’re
sure
you
know
what
you’re
talking
about.
[Taking
him
a
little
roughly
by
the
wrist,
so
he

cannot
eat
the
apple,
then
shaking
the
wrist]
I
bet
you’re
sure
of
almost
everything
anybody
ever
asked

you
about
…
right?
[Shakes
his
wrist
harder]
Right?



CLAY
Yeah,
right.
…
Wow,
you’re
pretty
strong,
you
know?
Whatta
you,
a
lady
wrestler
or
something?


LULA
What’s
wrong
with
lady
wrestlers?
And
don’t
answer
because
you
never
knew
any.
Huh.
[Cynically]


That’s
for
sure.
They
don’t
have
any
lady
wrestlers
in
that
part
of
Jersey.
That’s
for
sure.


CLAY
Hey,
you
still
haven’t
told
me
how
you
know
so
much
about
me.


LULA
I
told
you
I
didn’t
know
anything
about
you
…
you’re
a
well‐known
type.


CLAY
Really?


LULA
Or
at
least
I
know
the
type
very
well.
And
your
skinny
English
friend
too.


CLAY
Anonymously?


LULA
[Settles
back
in
seat,
single­mindedly
finishing
her
apple
and
humming
snatches
of
rhythm
and
blues


song]
What?


CLAY
Without
knowing
us
specifically?


LULA
Oh
boy.
[Looking
quickly
at
CLAY]
What
a
face.
You
know,
you
could
be
a
handsome
man.


CLAY
I
can’t
argue
with
you.


LULA
[Vague,
off­center
response]
What?


CLAY
[Raising
his
voice,
thinking
the
train
noise
has
drowned
part
of
his
sentence]
I
can’t
argue
with
you
.


LULA
My
hair
is
turning
gray.
A
gray
hair
for
each
year
and
type
I’ve
come
through.


CLAY
Why
do
you
want
to
sound
so
old?


LULA
But
it’s
always
gentle
when
it
starts.
[Attention
drifting]
Hugged
against
tenements,
day
or
night.


CLAY
What?


LULA
[Refocusing]
Hey,
why
don’t
you
take
me
to
that
party
you’re
going
to?


CLAY
You
must
be
a
friend
of
Warren’s
to
know
about
the
party.


LULA
Wouldn’t
you
like
to
take
me
to
the
party?
[Imitates
clinging
vine]
.
Oh,
come
on,
ask
me
to
your
party.


CLAY
Of
course
I’ll
ask
you
to
come
with
me
to
the
party.
And
I’ll
bet
you’re
a
friend
of
Warren’s.


LULA
Why
not
be
a
friend
of
Warren’s?
Why
not?
[Taking
his
arm]
Have
you
asked
me
yet?


CLAY
How
can
I
ask
you
when
I
don’t
know
your
name?


LULA
Are
you
talking
to
my
name?


CLAY
What
is
it,
a
secret?



LULA
I’m
Lena
the
Hyena.


CLAY
The
famous
woman
poet?


LULA
Poetess!
The
same!


CLAY
Well,
you
know
so
much
about
me
…
what’s
my
name?


LULA
Morris
the
Hyena.


CLAY
The
famous
woman
poet?


LULA
The
same.
[Laughing
and
going
into
her
bag]
You
want
another
apple?


CLAY
Can’t
make
it,
lady.
I
only
have
to
keep
one
doctor
away
a
day.


LULA
I
bet
your
name
is
…
something
like
…
uh,
Gerald
or
Walter.
Huh?


CLAY
God,
no.


LULA
Lloyd,
Norman?
One
of
those
hopeless
colored
names
creeping
out
of
New
Jersey
Leonard?
Gag
….


CLAY
Like
Warren?


LULAw
Definitely.
Just
exactly
like
Warren.
Or
Everett.3


CLAY
Gag
…
·


LULA
Well,
for
sure,
it’s
not
Willie.


CLAY

It’s
Clay.

LULA
Clay?
Really?
Clay
what?


CLAY
Take
your
pick.
Jackson,
Johnson,
or
Williams.


LULA
Oh,
really?
Good
for
you.
But
it’s
got
to
be
Williams.
You’re
too
pretentious
to
be
a
Jackson
or
Johnson.

CLAY
Thass
right.


LULA
But
Clay’s
O.K.


CLAY
So’s
Lena.


LULA
It’s
Lula.

CLAY
Oh?

LULA
Lula
the
Hyena.


CLAY
Very
good.


LULA
[Starts
laughing
again]
Now
you
say
to
me,
”Lula,
Lula,
why
don’t
you
go
to
this
party
with
me
tonight?”


It’s
your
turn,
and
let
those
be
your
lines.


CLAY
Lula,
why
don’t
you
go
to
this
party
with
me
tonight,
Huh?


LULA
Say
my
name
twice
before
you
ask,
and
no
huh’s.


CLAY
Lula,
Lula,
why
don’t
you
go
to
this
party
with
me
tonight?


LULA
I’d
like
to
go,
Clay,
but
how
can
you
ask
me
to
go
when
you
barely
know
me?


CLAY
That
is
strange,
isn’t
it?


LULA
What
kind
of
reaction
is
that?
You’re
supposed
to
say,
”Aw,
come
on,
we’ll
get
to
know
each
other
better


at
the
party.”


CLAY
That’s
pretty
corny.


LULA
What
are
you
into
anyway?
[Looking
at
him
half
sullenly
but
still
amused]
What
thing
are
you
playing
at,


Mister?
Mister
Clay
Williams?
[Grabs
his
thigh,
up
near
the
crotch]
What
are
you
thinking
about?


CLAY
Watch
it
now,
you’re
gonna
excite
me
for
real.


LULA
[Taking
her
hand
away
and
throwing
her
apple
core
through
the
window]
I
bet.
[She
slumps
in
the
seat


…