Mattoon Opera excerpt, "Hotel" scene

Here is a bit of the "opera" version of the Mattoon story that I worked on for many years.

Gladys Thatcher, a female reporter from Chicago, has just arrived in Mattoon to cover the Mad Gasser story.

Narrator: Just arrived on the train from Chicago,
Gladys "Becky" Thatcher,
a hard-bitten newspaperwoman,
strides purposefully across
the lobby of the Grant Hotel.

Thatcher: One, get a room
at the best hotel in town. 
The best people
and the big wheels
go to the best hotels,
and they are the ones
who can comment on
the news of the day. 
Two, get a news round-up every day. 
Take the pulse of the town. 
How do they feel about the war,
about the president,
about the congress,
about rationing,
about taxes,
about marriage.

Find out how they feel about
marriage and the career woman. 
How do they feel about
families and the career woman. 
How do they feel about
dating a career woman. 
How does the career woman feel? 
Twenty-nine and still waiting
for my first by-line. 
How come all the men I meet
are either cops or criminals? 
How come I care? 
And why do I suddenly
come to this realization
in the middle of a war--
the biggest man shortage there is. 
If I join the service,
I could have a dating pool
of a million GIs. 
I could go for a man in uniform. 

How does the career woman
feel about our men in uniform? 
How does small-town Illinois
feel about men in uniform? 
How does small-town Illinois
feel about the war? 
How does small-town Illinois
feel about career women? 

List of important people. 
Portable typewriter. 
And flowers at the station
from my editor.  The tight-wad. 
List of city-desk phone numbers
of all Hearst newspapers. 
Spare typewriter ribbon.

Narrator: At the desk, she struggles with her suitcase
and portable typewriter, and gets them situated. 
She reaches out to ring the desk bell. 
Charters beats her to it.  They smile at each other. 
The Desk Clerk pops up from behind the desk
and catches their glances and smiles.

Thatcher: I'd like a room.

Charters: I'd like a room.

Clerk:   You're in luck.  Newlyweds?

Thatcher: No.

Clerk:   I just ask because most soldiers are newlyweds.

Charters: We're not married.

Clerk:   Well, then I can't rent you a room. 
Even though it's 1944, this is Mattoon and not Chicago.

Thatcher: No, you misunderstand. 
We're not together.

Clerk:   Then, what do you want
one room for?

Charters: We'd each like one room.

Clerk:   Oh, I see.  You both came up together, like. 
So, I thought you were together, like. 
But I can't rent you each a room.

Charters: Why not?

Clerk:   Because I only have one room left.

Charters: Let me sign the register.

Thatcher: A gentleman would let a lady
have the room.

Charters: I'll tell you what, I'll do even better. 
I'll put in a good word for you with Miss Smith. 
She has a room for rent that would be perfect for you. 
It's a very nice room.

Thatcher: But I need to have a room at the hotel. 
Why don't you take the room with Miss Smith?

Charters: Because she only rents to refined young ladies.

Thatcher: Well, that lets me out.  Good luck, soldier-boy.

Charters: Thanks.  For nothing.

Thatcher: You're welcome.

Narrator: After she checks in, Thatcher finds a dejected Charters in the hotel's tap room. 
She sits down next to him at the bar.

Thatcher: Hi.

Charters: Hello.

Thatcher: Fancy meeting you here.

Charters: What do you want?

Thatcher: I thought you might like to buy a girl a drink.

Charters: Ohh.  Is that why you needed a room at the hotel.

Thatcher: Calm down, soldier-boy. 
Is this your first time state-side? 
I was wondering if we could strike a deal?

Charters: What sort of deal?

Thatcher: I'm a reporter for a big Chicago daily.

Charters: You're a WOMAN reporter on a Chicago paper?

Thatcher: That's the war for you. 
Institutions crumbling right and left. 
Anyway, as I'm a reporter
covering the night beat,
I only need the room
in the daytime, to sleep. 
How about we go halvsies? 
I can't throw out a soldier-boy. 
It wouldn't be patriotic.

Charters: What do you mean, halvsies?

Thatcher: You have the room at night,
exclusively, and I have the room
in the day.  We share the room,
but we don't share the night,
together.  We will share a bed,
but not share a pillow.

Charters: I don't know, but I guess I'm desperate. 
It's a deal.  Half the room,
half the time, for half the rent. 
Half-heartedly.

Thatcher: Done.  Let's drink on it. 
Then I have to go to work.

Narrator: The police chief comes in and sits at the bar;
he's almost off duty, he rationalizes,
and he orders a drink.

Chief:   First of the day.

Narrator: He downs the drink in one gulp.

Narrator: The late August night settles on the city, 

Narrator: Later that night, George Ryder,greets his wife at the door with a kiss as she returns from work.

Susan:   Hi.  Sorry, I'm late. 
You probably have to go.

Ryder:   Tough day?

Susan:   You don't know. 
The baby eat yet?

Ryder:   No.You know,
I don't like you working so hard.

Susan:   It's only for a little bit. 
The money's too good to pass up. 
It really helps.

Ryder:   I don't like you
making beds at the hotel. 
A lot of nuts
and guys from out of town.

Susan:   Let me tell you
about this guy. 
I'm making the bed in 318. 
Nice neat room,
just needs a little
straightening up. 
You can always tell
when a woman has been in a room--
she keeps it neat like her home. 
Now, a man--he's only there
for a night or two,
and men aren't as neat.

Ryder:   Is this about the laundry? 
I put all my dirty clothes
in the laundry hamper
and I even carried it downstairs.

Susan:   No, no. 
I'm dusting a room
obviously occupied by a woman. 
Plus it's registered
to a woman named Thatcher. 
I just made the bed
and in walks a man.

Ryder:   What did he want?

Susan:   That's what I ask him. 
He excuses himself. 
Only he says it's his room. 
So I give him the once over. 
You and your wife? I ask him. 
And, he says, no, just him. 
I ask him about the peign-noir
that's laid out on the bed? 
He says it's a present
for his sister. 
I'm not buying that. 
I ask him about the stockings
hanging in the bathroom--
they've obviously been worn. 
He says they're his.

Ryder:   Oh, jeez.

Susan:   He says he's had
bad circulation in his legs
and his doctor prescribed them. 
So, I ask him about
the lipstick and eyeshadow
and face powder in the bathroom? 
Are they his too? 
Did the doctor prescribe
them for a skin condition? 
He turns around and leaves.

Ryder:   I'll talk to the boss,
maybe there's a way
I can work some more overtime
so you won't have to work. 
Jeez, I gotta go
or I'll be late. 
Here's the baby. 
I'll see you
tomorrow morning.

Susan:   Good night, George. 
I love you. 
Do you have your lunch?

Narrator: She cleans the kitchen, while trying
to get her two-year-old to eat some dinner. 
He keeps throwing food on the floor--
it is a losing battle. 
After the two-year-old is in bed,
she returns to the cleaning. 
She starts anxiously at a sound outside,
but listens and hears nothing. 
She decides she will drown out the "night noises"
and turns on the radio--
to a classical broadcast by the Boston Symphony. 
As she sweeps in the corners,
the dust bunnies roll across the floor
caught in the draft from the open back door. 
She closes the door, but doesn't lock it.

Taking up her mending,
she settles in the living room
of her small cape cod. 
She is a little nervous...
until the music soothes her--
or is it the gas--
it makes her feel relaxed,
and peaceful,
then faint,
and then sick. 
She wakens with a start
and finds her legs are paralyzed. 
She drags herself to the phone
and dials operator. 
She tells her to call the police--
she has been gassed!