The Glass Menagerie

The Plastic Theatre Concept

Tennessee Williams argues that unconventional dramatic techniques aim for a deeper truth than literal realism.
He critiques the 'photographic' nature of realistic plays, comparing them to academic landscapes that lack organic life.
The author introduces the concept of 'plastic theatre' as a vital replacement for exhausted theatrical conventions.
A specific 'screen device' involving projected images and titles is proposed to provide structural clarity and thematic accent.
While omitted from the Broadway production due to the lead actress's power, the device is included in the script to aid the audience's focus.
The screen serves to strengthen allusions and prevent the episodic narrative from feeling merely fragmentary.

The straight realistic play with its genuine frigidaire and authentic ice-cubes, its characters that speak exactly as its audience speaks, corresponds to the academic landscape and has the same virtue of a photographic likeness.

TENNESSEE WILLIAMS The Glass Menagerie WILLIAMS The Author's Production Notes Being a "memory play," The Glass Menagerie can be presented with unusual freedom of convention. Because of its considerably delicate or tenuous material, atmospheric touches and subtleties of direction play a particularly important part. Expressionism and all other unconventional techniques in drama have only one valid aim, and that is a closer approach to truth. When a play employs unconventional techniques, it is not, or certainly shouldn't be, trying to escape its responsibility of dealing with reality, or interpreting experience, but is actually or should be attempting to find a closer approach, a more penetrating and vivid expression of things as they are. The straight realistic play with its genuine frigidaire and authentic ice-cubes, its characters that speak exactly as its audience speaks, corresponds to the academic landscape and has the same virtue of a photographic likeness Everyone should know nowadays the unimportance of the photographic in art: that truth, life, or reality is an organic thing which the poetic imagination can represent or suggest, in essence, only through transformation, through changing into other forms than those which were merely present in appearance. These remarks are not meant as a preface only to this particular play They have to do with a conception of a new, plastic theatre which must take the place of the exhausted theatre of realistic conventions if the theatre is to resume vitality as a part of our culture THE SCREEN DEVICE. There is only one important difference between the original and acting version of the play and that is the omission in the latter of the device which I tentatively included in my original script. This device was the use of a screen on which were projected magic-lantern slides bearing images or titles. I do not regret the omission of this device from the present Broadway production. The extraordinary power of Miss Taylor's performance made it suitable to have the utmost simplicity in the physical production. But I think it may be interesting to some readers to see how this device was conceived So I am putting it into the published manuscript These images and legends, projected from behind, were cast on a section of wall between the front-room and dining-room areas, which should be indistinguishable from the rest when not in use. The purpose of this will probably be apparent It is to give accent to certain values in each scene Each scene contains a particular point (or several) which is structurally the most important In an episodic play, such as this, the basic structure or narrative line may be obscured from the audience; the effect may seem fragmentary rather than architectural. This may not be the fault of the play so much as a lack of attention in the audience. The legend or image upon the screen will strengthen the effect of what is merely allusion in the writing and allow the primary point to be made more simply and lightly than if the entire responsibility were on the spoken lines. Aside The Glass Menagerie, by Tennessee Williams Copyright 1945 by Tennessee Williams and Edwina D Williams and renewed 1973 by Tennessee Williams Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc Caution: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that The Glass Menagerie, being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, the British Empire including the Dominion of Canada, and all other countries of the copyright union, is subject to royalty All rights, including professional, amateur, motion picture. recitation. lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved Particular emphasis is laid on the question of readings. permission for which must be secured from the author's agent in writing All inquiries should be addressed to the author's agent. Liebling-Wood, 551 Fifth Avenue, New York City

Atmosphere and Character Portraits

The recurring musical theme functions as a nostalgic thread, representing the delicate beauty and inherent fragility of the characters' lives.
Lighting is intentionally non-realistic and dim, utilizing focused shafts of light to emphasize emotional centers rather than literal action.
Laura is visually associated with the clarity of religious iconography, reflecting her status as a figure of 'pristine' but static grace.
Amanda Wingfield is defined by a 'confused vitality,' embodying a tragic yet heroic struggle to cling to a vanished past.
Laura's physical disability serves as the catalyst for her total retreat into a world as fragile as her glass collection.
Tom Wingfield is established as a poet-narrator who must paradoxically embrace ruthlessness to escape his stifling environment.

It expresses the surface vivacity of life with the underlying strain of immutable and inexpressible sorrow.

The Glass Menagerie from this structural value, I think the screen will have a definite emotional appeal, less de- finable but just as important. An imaginative producer or director may invent many other uses for this device than those indicated in the present script. In fact the possibilities of the device seem much larger to me than the instance of this play can possibly utilize. THE MUSIC Another extra-literary accent in this play is provided by the use of music. A single recurring tune, “The Glass Menagerie,” is used to give emotional emphasis to suitable passages. This tune is like circus music, not when you are on the grounds or in the im- mediate vicinity of the parade, but when you are at some distance and very likely thinking of something else. It seems under those cir- cumstances to continue almost interminably and it weaves in and out of your preoccupied consciousness; then it is the lightest, most delicate music in the world and perhaps the saddest. It expresses the surface vivacity of life with the underlying strain of immutable and inexpressible sorrow. When you look at a piece of delicately spun glass you think of two things: how beautiful it is and how easily it can be broken. Both of those ideas should be woven into the recurring tune, which dips in and out of the play as if it were carried on a wind that changes. It serves as a thread of con- nection and allusion between the narrator with his separate point in time and space and the subject of his story. Between each episode it returns as reference to the emotion, nostalgia, which is the first condition of the play. It is primarily Laura’s music and therefore comes out most clearly when the play focuses upon her and the lovely fragility of glass which is her image. THE LIGHTING The lighting in the play is not realistic. In keeping with the atmosphere of memory, the stage is dim. Shafts of light are focused on selected areas or actors, sometimes in contradistinction to what is the apparent center. For instance, in the quarrel scene be- tween Tom and Amanda, in which Laura has no active part, the clearest pool of light is on her figure. This is also true of the supper scene, when her silent figure on the sofa should re- main the visual center. The light upon Laura should be distinct from the others, having a peculiar pristine clarity such as light used in early religious portraits of female saints or madonnas. A certain correspondence to light in religious paintings, such as El Greco’s, where the figures are radiant in atmosphere that is relatively dusky, could be effectively used throughout the play. (It will also permit a more effective use of the screen.) A free, imaginative use of light can be of enormous value in giving a mobile, plastic quality to plays of a more or less static nature. THE CHARACTERS AMANDA WINGFIELD the mother A little woman of great but confused vitality clinging frantically to another time and place. Her characterization must be carefully created, not copied from type. She is not paranoiac, but her life is paranoia. There is much to admire in Amanda, and as much to love and pity as there is to laugh at. Certainly she has en- durance and a kind of heroism, and though her foolishness makes her unwittingly cruel at times, there is tenderness in her slight person. LAURA WINGFIELD her daughter Amanda, having failed to establish contact with reality, continues to live vitally in her illusions, but Laura’s situation is even graver. A childhood illness has left her crippled, one leg slightly shorter than the other, and held in a brace. This defect need not be more than suggested on the stage. Stemming from this, Laura’s separation increases till she is like a piece of her own glass collection, too exquisitely fragile to move from the shelf. TOM WINGFIELD her son. And the narrator of the play. A poet with a job in a warehouse. His nature is not remorseless, but to escape from a trap he has to act without pity. JIM O’CONNOR the gentleman caller A nice, ordinary, young man.

Memory and Human Desperation

The setting is a 'hive-like' tenement in St. Louis, representing the automated and 'enslaved' existence of the American lower-middle class.
The fire-escape serves as a literal and symbolic entrance, representing the 'slow and implacable fires of human desperation' burning within the residents.
The play is established as a 'memory play,' utilizing non-realistic lighting and poetic license to reflect emotional values rather than objective reality.
Tom Wingfield acts as both a character and an undisguised narrator who admits to using 'the pleasant disguise of illusion' to reveal truth.
The physical environment is cluttered and grim, featuring a collection of glass animals and a haunting photograph of a father who abandoned the family.

All of these huge buildings are always burning with the slow and implacable fires of human desperation.

752 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene I SCENE. An alley in St. Louis. PART I. Preparation for a Gentleman Caller PART II. The Gentleman calls. TIME: Now and the Past. SCENE I. 5 The Wingfield apartment is in the rear of the building, one of those vast hive-like conglomera- tions of cellular living-units that flower as warty growths in overcrowded urban centers of lower middle-class population and are symptomatic of 10 the impulse of this largest and fundamentally enslaved section of American society to avoid fluidity and differentiation and to exist and func- tion as one interfused mass of automatism. The apartment faces an alley and is entered by a 15 fire-escape, a structure whose name is a touch of accidental poetic truth, for all of these huge buildings are always burning with the slow and implacable fires of human desperation. The fire- escape is included in the set—that is, the landing 20 of it and steps descending from it. The scene is memory and is therefore non- realistic. Memory takes a lot of poetic license. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, ac- cording to the emotional value of the articles it 25 touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart. The interior is therefore rather dim and poetic. At the rise of the curtain, the audience is faced with the dark, grim rear wall of the Wingfield tene- 30 ment. This building, which runs parallel to the footlights, is flanked on both sides by dark, narrow alleys which run into murky canyons of tangled clotheslines, garbage cans and the sinister lattice- work of neighboring fire-escapes. It is up and 35 down these side alleys that exterior entrances and exits are made, during the play. At the end of TOM'S opening commentary, the dark tenement wall slowly reveals (by means of a transparency) the interior of the ground floor Wingfield apart- 40 ment. Downstage is the living room, which also serves as a sleeping room for LAURA, the sofa unfolding Time Tom narrates his memories at about the time of the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945) to make her bed. Upstage, center, and divided by a wide arch or second proscenium, with transparent faded portieres (or second curtain), is the dining 45 room. In an old-fashioned what-not in the living room are seen scores of transparent glass animals. A blown-up photograph of the father hangs on the wall of the living room, facing the audience, to the left of the archway. It is the face of a very 50 handsome young man in a doughboy's First World War cap. He is gallantly smiling, ineluctably smiling, as if to say, "I will be smiling forever." The audience hears and sees the opening scene in the dining room through both the transparent 55 fourth wall of the building and the transparent gauze portieres of the dining-room arch. It is during this revealing scene that the fourth wall slowly ascends, out of sight. This transparent exterior wall is not brought down again until 60 the very end of the play, during TOM'S final speech. The narrator is an undisguised convention of the play. He takes whatever license with dramatic convention as is convenient to his purposes. 65 TOM enters dressed as a merchant sailor from alley, stage left, and strolls across the front of the stage to the fire-escape. There he stops and lights a cigarette. He addresses the audience. TOM. Yes, I have tricks in my pocket, I have 70 things up my sleeve. But I am the opposite of a stage magician. He gives you illusion that has the appearance of truth. I give you truth in the pleasant disguise of illusion. To begin with, I turn back time. I reverse it 75 to that quaint period, the thirties, when the huge middle class of America was matriculat- ing in a school for the blind. Their eyes had failed them, or they had failed their eyes, and so they were having their fingers pressed 80 forcibly down on the fiery Braille alphabet of a dissolving economy. In Spain there was revolution. Here there was only shouting and confusion. In Spain there was Guernica. Here there 85 were disturbances of labor, sometimes pretty Guernica a town in northern Spain, heavily bombarded by German aircraft in 1937 during the Spanish Civil War

The Memory Play Begins

The narrator, Tom, introduces the play as a memory piece, characterized by dim lighting, sentimentality, and a non-realistic atmosphere accompanied by music.
The setting is contrasted with the global and domestic turmoil of the 1930s, including the Spanish Civil War and labor disturbances in American cities.
The family dynamic is defined by the absence of the father, a 'telephone man who fell in love with long distances' and abandoned them with a two-word postcard.
A 'gentleman caller' is introduced as both a realistic character and a symbol of the long-delayed hopes the family lives for.
The opening scene depicts a tense dinner where Amanda’s overbearing instructions on 'mastication' drive Tom to frustration and rebellion.
Amanda reveals her preoccupation with social status and traditional roles, insisting Laura remain 'fresh and pretty' for potential suitors.

He was a telephone man who fell in love with long distances; he gave up his job with the telephone company and skipped the light fantastic out of town . . .

752 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene I SCENE. An alley in St. Louis. PART I. Preparation for a Gentleman Caller PART II. The Gentleman calls. TIME: Now and the Past. SCENE I. 5 The Wingfield apartment is in the rear of the building, one of those vast hive-like conglomera- tions of cellular living-units that flower as warty growths in overcrowded urban centers of lower middle-class population and are symptomatic of 10 the impulse of this largest and fundamentally enslaved section of American society to avoid fluidity and differentiation and to exist and func- tion as one interfused mass of automatism. The apartment faces an alley and is entered by a 15 fire-escape, a structure whose name is a touch of accidental poetic truth, for all of these huge buildings are always burning with the slow and implacable fires of human desperation. The fire- escape is included in the set—that is, the landing 20 of it and steps descending from it. The scene is memory and is therefore non- realistic. Memory takes a lot of poetic license. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, ac- cording to the emotional value of the articles it 25 touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart. The interior is therefore rather dim and poetic. At the rise of the curtain, the audience is faced with the dark, grim rear wall of the Wingfield tene- 30 ment. This building, which runs parallel to the footlights, is flanked on both sides by dark, narrow alleys which run into murky canyons of tangled clotheslines, garbage cans and the sinister lattice- work of neighboring fire-escapes. It is up and 35 down these side alleys that exterior entrances and exits are made, during the play. At the end of TOM'S opening commentary, the dark tenement wall slowly reveals (by means of a transparency) the interior of the ground floor Wingfield apart- 40 ment. Downstage is the living room, which also serves as a sleeping room for LAURA, the sofa unfolding Time Tom narrates his memories at about the time of the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945) to make her bed. Upstage, center, and divided by a wide arch or second proscenium, with transparent faded portieres (or second curtain), is the dining 45 room. In an old-fashioned what-not in the living room are seen scores of transparent glass animals. A blown-up photograph of the father hangs on the wall of the living room, facing the audience, to the left of the archway. It is the face of a very 50 handsome young man in a doughboy's First World War cap. He is gallantly smiling, ineluctably smiling, as if to say, "I will be smiling forever." The audience hears and sees the opening scene in the dining room through both the transparent 55 fourth wall of the building and the transparent gauze portieres of the dining-room arch. It is during this revealing scene that the fourth wall slowly ascends, out of sight. This transparent exterior wall is not brought down again until 60 the very end of the play, during TOM'S final speech. The narrator is an undisguised convention of the play. He takes whatever license with dramatic convention as is convenient to his purposes. 65 TOM enters dressed as a merchant sailor from alley, stage left, and strolls across the front of the stage to the fire-escape. There he stops and lights a cigarette. He addresses the audience. TOM. Yes, I have tricks in my pocket, I have 70 things up my sleeve. But I am the opposite of a stage magician. He gives you illusion that has the appearance of truth. I give you truth in the pleasant disguise of illusion. To begin with, I turn back time. I reverse it 75 to that quaint period, the thirties, when the huge middle class of America was matriculat- ing in a school for the blind. Their eyes had failed them, or they had failed their eyes, and so they were having their fingers pressed 80 forcibly down on the fiery Braille alphabet of a dissolving economy. In Spain there was revolution. Here there was only shouting and confusion. In Spain there was Guernica. Here there 85 were disturbances of labor, sometimes pretty Guernica a town in northern Spain, heavily bombarded by German aircraft in 1937 during the Spanish Civil War

violent, in otherwise peaceful cities such as Chicago, Cleveland, Saint Louis . . . This is the social background of the play [MUSIC] 5 The play is memory. Being a memory play, it is dimly lighted, it is sentimental, it is not realistic In memory everything seems to happen to music. That explains the fiddle in the wings 10 I am the narrator of the play, and also a char- acter in it The other characters are my mother, Amanda, my sister, Laura, and a gentleman caller who appears in the final scenes. 15 He is the most realistic character in the play, being an emissary from a world of reality that we were somehow set apart from. But since I have a poet's weakness for sym- bols, I am using this character also as a symbol; 20 he is the long delayed but always expected something that we live for. There is a fifth character in the play who doesn't appear except in this larger-than-life- size photograph over the mantel. 25 This is our father who left us a long time ago. He was a telephone man who fell in love with long distances; he gave up his job with the telephone company and skipped the light fantastic out of town . . . 30 The last we heard of him was a picture post- card from Mazatlan, on the Pacific coast of Mexico, containing a message of two words— "Hello-Good-bye!" and no address. I think the rest of the play will explain it- 35 self . . . [AMANDA'S voice becomes audible through the portieres.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "OÙ SONT LES NEIGES."] He divides the portieres and enters the upstage 40 area. AMANDA and LAURA are seated at a drop- leaf table. Eating is indicated by gestures without food or utensils. AMANDA faces the audience. TOM and LAURA are seated in profile. The in- Scene I | The Glass Menagerie terior has lit up softly and through the scrim we see AMANDA and LAURA seated at the table 45 in the upstage area. AMANDA [Calling]. TOM? TOM. Yes, Mother. AMANDA. We can't say grace until you come to the table! 50 TOM. Coming, Mother. [He bows slightly and withdraws, reappearing a few moments later in his place at the table.] AMANDA [To her son]. Honey, don't push with your fingers If you have to push with 55 something, the thing to push with is a crust of bread. And chew—chew! Animals have sec- tions in their stomachs which enable them to digest food without mastication, but human beings are supposed to chew their food before 60 they swallow it down. Eat food leisurely, son, and really enjoy it. A well-cooked meal has lots of delicate flavors that have to be held in the mouth for appreciation. So chew your food and give your salivary glands a chance to function! 65 [TOM deliberately lays his imaginary fork down and pushes his chair back from the table.] TOM. I haven't enjoyed one bite of this din- ner because of your constant directions on how to eat it. It's you that make me rush through 70 meals with your hawk-like attention to every bite I take. Sickening—spoils my appetite—all this discussion of—animals' secretion—sali- vary glands—mastication! AMANDA [Lightly]. Temperament like a 75 Metropolitan star! [He rises and crosses down- stage.] You're not excused from the table. TOM. I'm getting a cigarette. AMANDA. You smoke too much. [LAURA rises.] 80 LAURA. I'll bring in the blanc mange. [He remains standing with his cigarette by the portieres during the following.] AMANDA [Rising]. No, sister, no, sister—you be the lady this time and I'll be the darky. 85 LAURA. I'm already up. AMANDA. Resume your seat, little sister—I want you to stay fresh and pretty—for gentle- men callers! LAURA. I'm not expecting any gentlemen 90 callers. Legend on Screen a caption in the style of "titles" (com- ment or dialogue) in silent movies; here a line from the French poet Francois Villon (1431-1463?). "Where are the snows of yesteryear?"

The Legend of Blue Mountain

Amanda Wingfield escapes her current reality by recounting a legendary Sunday in Blue Mountain where she hosted seventeen gentlemen callers.
The narrative highlights Amanda's obsession with a lost era of Southern social grace, wit, and 'the art of conversation.'
Amanda lists her former suitors' tragic or successful fates, emphasizing the wealth and status she bypassed to marry Tom and Laura's father.
The tension between the siblings is evident as Tom reacts with cynical exhaustion while Laura patiently endures the repetitive storytelling.
Amanda projects her past expectations onto Laura, urging her to stay 'fresh and pretty' for callers who are unlikely to arrive.
The scene underscores the theme of memory as a refuge from a bleak, impoverished present.

He got in a quarrel with that wild Wainwright boy. They shot it out on the floor of Moon Lake Casino.

violent, in otherwise peaceful cities such as Chicago, Cleveland, Saint Louis . . . This is the social background of the play [MUSIC] 5 The play is memory. Being a memory play, it is dimly lighted, it is sentimental, it is not realistic In memory everything seems to happen to music. That explains the fiddle in the wings 10 I am the narrator of the play, and also a char- acter in it The other characters are my mother, Amanda, my sister, Laura, and a gentleman caller who appears in the final scenes. 15 He is the most realistic character in the play, being an emissary from a world of reality that we were somehow set apart from. But since I have a poet's weakness for sym- bols, I am using this character also as a symbol; 20 he is the long delayed but always expected something that we live for. There is a fifth character in the play who doesn't appear except in this larger-than-life- size photograph over the mantel. 25 This is our father who left us a long time ago. He was a telephone man who fell in love with long distances; he gave up his job with the telephone company and skipped the light fantastic out of town . . . 30 The last we heard of him was a picture post- card from Mazatlan, on the Pacific coast of Mexico, containing a message of two words— "Hello-Good-bye!" and no address. I think the rest of the play will explain it- 35 self . . . [AMANDA'S voice becomes audible through the portieres.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "OÙ SONT LES NEIGES."] He divides the portieres and enters the upstage 40 area. AMANDA and LAURA are seated at a drop- leaf table. Eating is indicated by gestures without food or utensils. AMANDA faces the audience. TOM and LAURA are seated in profile. The in- Scene I | The Glass Menagerie terior has lit up softly and through the scrim we see AMANDA and LAURA seated at the table 45 in the upstage area. AMANDA [Calling]. TOM? TOM. Yes, Mother. AMANDA. We can't say grace until you come to the table! 50 TOM. Coming, Mother. [He bows slightly and withdraws, reappearing a few moments later in his place at the table.] AMANDA [To her son]. Honey, don't push with your fingers If you have to push with 55 something, the thing to push with is a crust of bread. And chew—chew! Animals have sec- tions in their stomachs which enable them to digest food without mastication, but human beings are supposed to chew their food before 60 they swallow it down. Eat food leisurely, son, and really enjoy it. A well-cooked meal has lots of delicate flavors that have to be held in the mouth for appreciation. So chew your food and give your salivary glands a chance to function! 65 [TOM deliberately lays his imaginary fork down and pushes his chair back from the table.] TOM. I haven't enjoyed one bite of this din- ner because of your constant directions on how to eat it. It's you that make me rush through 70 meals with your hawk-like attention to every bite I take. Sickening—spoils my appetite—all this discussion of—animals' secretion—sali- vary glands—mastication! AMANDA [Lightly]. Temperament like a 75 Metropolitan star! [He rises and crosses down- stage.] You're not excused from the table. TOM. I'm getting a cigarette. AMANDA. You smoke too much. [LAURA rises.] 80 LAURA. I'll bring in the blanc mange. [He remains standing with his cigarette by the portieres during the following.] AMANDA [Rising]. No, sister, no, sister—you be the lady this time and I'll be the darky. 85 LAURA. I'm already up. AMANDA. Resume your seat, little sister—I want you to stay fresh and pretty—for gentle- men callers! LAURA. I'm not expecting any gentlemen 90 callers. Legend on Screen a caption in the style of "titles" (com- ment or dialogue) in silent movies; here a line from the French poet Francois Villon (1431-1463?). "Where are the snows of yesteryear?"

754 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene I AMANDA [Crossing out to kitchenette Airily] Sometimes they come when they are least expected! Why, I remember one Sunday after- noon in Blue Mountain— [Enters kitchenette.] TOM. I know what’s coming! LAURA. Yes. But let her tell it. TOM. Again? LAURA. She loves to tell it. [AMANDA returns with bowl of dessert.] AMANDA. One Sunday afternoon in Blue Mountain—your mother received—seventeen —gentlemen callers! Why, sometimes there weren’t chairs enough to accommodate them all. We had to send the nigger over to bring in folding chairs from the parish house. TOM [Remaining at portieres] How did you entertain those gentlemen callers? AMANDA. I understood the art of conversa- tion! TOM. I bet you could talk. AMANDA. Girls in those days knew how to talk, I can tell you. TOM. Yes? [IMAGE: AMANDA AS A GIRL ON A PORCH, GREETING CALLERS.] AMANDA. They knew how to entertain their gentlemen callers. It wasn’t enough for a girl to be possessed of a pretty face and a graceful figure—although I wasn’t slighted in either respect. She also needed to be a nimble wit and a tongue to meet all occasions. TOM. What did you talk about? AMANDA. Things of importance going on in the world! Never anything coarse or common or vulgar. [She addresses TOM as though he were seated in the vacant chair at the table though he remains by portieres. He plays this scene as though he held the book.]° My callers were gentlemen—all! Among my callers were some of the most prominent young planters of the Mississippi Delta—planters and sons of planters! [TOM motions for music and a spot of light on AMANDA. Her eyes lift, her face glows, her voice becomes rich and elegiac.] [SCREEN LEGEND: “OÙ SONI LES NEIGES.”] There was young Champ Laughlin who later became vice-president of the Delta Planters Bank. Hadley Stevenson who was drowned in 50 Moon Lake and left his widow one hundred and fifty thousand in Government bonds. There were the Cutrere brothers, Wesley and Bates. Bates was one of my bright particular beaux! He got in a quarrel with that wild 55 Wainwright boy. They shot it out on the floor of Moon Lake Casino. Bates was shot through the stomach. Died in the ambulance on his way to Memphis. His widow was also well- provided for, came into eight or ten thousand 60 acres, that’s all. She married him on the re- bound—never loved her—carried my picture on him the night he died! And there was that boy that every girl in the Delta had set her cap for! That beautiful, 65 brilliant young Fitzhugh boy from Greene County! TOM. What did he leave his widow? AMANDA. He never married! Gracious, you talk as though all of my old admirers had 70 turned up their toes to the daisies! TOM. Isn’t this the first you’ve mentioned that still survives? AMANDA. That Fitzhugh boy went North and made a fortune—came to be known as the 75 Wolf of Wall Street! He had the Midas touch, whatever he touched turned to gold! And I could have been Mrs. Duncan J. Fitz- hugh, mind you! But—I picked your father! LAURA [Rising]. Mother, let me clear the 80 table. AMANDA. No, dear, you go in front and study your typewriter chart. Or practice your shorthand a little. Stay fresh and pretty!—It’s almost time for our gentlemen callers to start 85 arriving. [She flounces girlishly toward the kitchenette] How many do you suppose we’re going to entertain this afternoon? [TOM throws down the paper and jumps up with a groan.] 90 LAURA [Alone in the dining room]. I don’t be- lieve we’re going to receive any, Mother. AMANDA [Reappearing, airily]. What? No book script of the play

Deception and Disappointment

Amanda expresses disbelief and anxiety over Laura's lack of 'gentleman callers,' contrasting it with her own social success in Blue Mountain.
Laura acknowledges her mother's deep-seated fear that she is destined to become an 'old maid.'
Amanda returns home in a state of performative despair, wearing her outdated 'full-dress' outfit and skipping her social meeting.
Laura attempts to hide her glass collection and pretend to study her typewriter keyboard when she hears her mother approaching.
Amanda reveals she has discovered a 'deception,' leading her to tear up Laura's typing and shorthand charts in a fit of martyred sorrow.
The tension between the two women peaks as Amanda questions Laura's maturity and stares at her with a look of grim hopelessness.

I did not have the strength-to go to the D.A.R. In fact, I did not have the courage! I wanted to find a hole in the ground and hide myself in it forever!

one-not one? You must be joking! [LAURA nervously echoes her laugh. She slips in a fugitive manner through the half-open portieres and draws them gently behind her. A shaft of very clear light 5 is thrown on her face against the faded tapestry of the curtains. MUSIC: "THE GLASS MENAGERIE" UNDER FAINTLY. Lightly]. Not one gentleman caller? It can't be true! There must be a flood, there must have been a tornado! 10 LAURA. It isn't a flood, it's not a tornado, Mother I'm just not popular like you were in Blue Mountain... [TOM utters another groan. LAURA glances at him with a faint, apologetic smile. Her voice catching a little]. Mother's 15 afraid I'm going to be an old maid. The Scene Dims Out With "Glass Menagerie" Music SCENE II. "Laura, Haven't You Ever Liked Some Boy?" On the dark stage the screen is lighted with the 20 image of blue roses. Gradually LAURA's figure becomes apparent and the screen goes out. The music subsides. LAURA is seated in the delicate ivory chair at the small clawfoot table. She wears a dress of soft 25 violet material for a kimono-her hair tied back from her forehead with a ribbon. She is washing and polishing her collection of glass AMANDA appears on the fire-escape steps. At the sound of her ascent, LAURA catches her 30 breath, thrusts the bowl of ornaments away and seats herself stiffly before the diagram of the typewriter keyboard as though it held her spell- bound. Something has happened to AMANDA. It is written in her face as she climbs to the landing: 35 a look that is grim and hopeless and a little absurd. She has on one of those cheap or imitation velvety-looking cloth coats with imitation fur collar. Her hat is five or six years old, one of those dreadful cloche hats that were worn in the late 40 twenties and she is clasping an enormous black patent-leather pocketbook with nickel clasps and initials. This is her full-dress outfit, the one Music especially composed for this play by Paul Bowles she usually wears to the D.A.R. Before entering she looks through the door. She purses her lips, opens her eyes very wide, rolls them upward and 45 shakes her head. Then she slowly lets herself in the door. Seeing her mother's expression LAURA touches her lips with a nervous gesture. LAURA. Hello, Mother, I was- [She makes a nervous gesture toward the chart on the wall. 50 AMANDA leans against the shut door and stares at LAURA with a martyred look.] AMANDA. Deception? Deception? [She slowly removes her hat and gloves, continuing the sweet suffering stare. She lets the hat and gloves fall 55 on the floor-a bit of acting.] LAURA. [Shakily] How was the D.A.R. meeting? [AMANDA slowly opens her purse and removes a dainty white handkerchief which she shakes out delicately and delicately touches to 60 her lips and nostrils]. Didn't you go to the D.A.R. meeting, Mother? AMANDA. [Faintly, almost inaudibly]-No.- No [Then more forcibly] I did not have the strength-to go to the D.A.R. In fact, I did not 65 have the courage! I wanted to find a hole in the ground and hide myself in it forever! [She crosses slowly to the wall and removes the dia- gram of the typewriter keyboard. She holds it in front of her for a second, staring at it sweetly 70 and sorrowfully-then bites her lips and tears it in two pieces.] LAURA. [Faintly]. Why did you do that, Mother? [AMANDA repeats the same procedure with the chart of the Gregg Alphabet]. Why are 75 you- AMANDA. Why? Why? How old are you, Laura? LAURA. Mother, you know my age. AMANDA. I thought you were an adult; it 80 seems that I was mistaken. [She crosses slowly to the sofa and sinks down and stares at LAURA.] LAURA. Please don't stare at me, Mother. [AMANDA closes her eyes and lowers her head. Count ten.] 85 D.A.R. Daughters of the American Revolution. a patriotic society of ladies who trace their descent from ancestors who assisted in the Revolutionary War

The Deception of Laura Wingfield

Amanda discovers that Laura dropped out of Rubicam's Business College weeks ago after a physical breakdown during a typing speed test.
Laura reveals she has been spending her school hours wandering the city, visiting the zoo, art museums, and tropical greenhouses to maintain the illusion of attendance.
The financial sacrifice of fifty dollars in tuition is highlighted as a significant loss for the struggling family.
Laura explains her deception was motivated by a desperate fear of her mother's disappointment and 'suffering look.'
The confrontation underscores the vast disconnect between Amanda's ambitious expectations and Laura's crippling social anxiety.

I visited the penguins every day! Sometimes I did without lunch and went to the movies.

756 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene II AMANDA. What are we going to do, what is going to become of us, what is the future? [Count ten] LAURA. Has something happened, Mother? [AMANDA draws a long breath and takes out the handkerchief again. Dabbing process]. Mother, has - something happened? AMANDA. I'll be all right in a minute, I'm just bewildered - [Count five] - by life. LAURA. Mother, I wish that you would tell me what's happened! AMANDA. As you know, I was supposed to be inducted into my office at the D.A.R. this afternoon. [IMAGE: A SWARM OF TYPEWRITERS]. But I stopped off at Rubicam's Business Col- lege to speak to your teachers about your hav- ing a cold and ask them what progress they thought you were making down there. LAURA. Oh.... AMANDA. I went to the typing instructor and introduced myself as your mother. She didn't know who you were. "Wingfield," she said. "We don't have any such student enrolled at the school!" I assured her she did, that you have been going to classes since early in January. "I wonder," she said, "if you could be talk- ing about that terribly shy little girl who dropped out of school after only a few days' attendance?" "No," I said, "Laura, has been going to school every day for the past six weeks!" "Excuse me," she said. She took the at- tendance book out and there was your name, unmistakably printed, and all the dates you were absent until they decided that you had dropped out of school. I still said, "No, there must have been some mistake! There must have been some mix-up in the records!" And she said, "No-I remember her per- fectly now. Her hands shook so that she couldn't hit the right keys! The first time we gave a speed-test, she broke down com- pletely - was sick at the stomach and almost had to be carried into the wash-room! After that morning she never showed up any more. We phoned the house but never got any answer" - While I was working at Famous and Barr, I suppose, demonstrating those-Oh! I felt so weak I could barely keep on my feet! I had to sit down while they got me a glass of water! Fifty dollars' tuition, all of our plans - my hopes and ambitions for you - just gone up the spout, just gone up the spout like that. [LAURA draws a long breath and gets awkwardly to her feet. She crosses to the victrola and winds it up]. What are you doing? LAURA. Oh! [She releases the handle and re- turns to her seat.] AMANDA. Laura, where have you been going when you've gone out pretending that you were going to business college? LAURA. I've just been going out walking AMANDA. That's not true. LAURA. It is. I just went walking. AMANDA. Walking? Walking? In winter? Deliberately courting pneumonia in that light coat? Where did you walk to, Laura? LAURA. All sorts of places - mostly in the park. AMANDA. Even after you'd starting catching that cold? LAURA. It was the lesser of two evils, Mother. [IMAGE: WINTER SCENE IN PARK]. I couldn't go back up. I-threw up - on the floor! AMANDA. From half past seven till after five every day you mean to tell me you walked around in the park, because you wanted to make me think that you were still going to Rubicam's Business College? LAURA. It wasn't as bad as it sounds. I went inside places to get warmed up. AMANDA. Inside where? LAURA. I went in the art museum and the birdhouses at the Zoo. I visited the penguins every day! Sometimes I did without lunch and went to the movies. Lately I've been spending most of my afternoons in the Jewel-box, that big glass house where they raise the tropical flowers. Famous and Barr a large department store in St Louis

Scene II | The Glass Menagerie AMANDA. You did all this to deceive me, just for deception? [LAURA looks down.] Why? LAURA. Mother, when you're disappointed, you get that awful suffering look on your face, like the picture of Jesus' mother in the museum! AMANDA. Hush! LAURA. I couldn't face it. [Pause. A whisper of strings.] [LEGEND: "THE CRUST OF HUMILITY"] AMANDA [Hopelessly fingering the huge pocketbook]. So what are we going to do the rest of our lives? Stay home and watch the parades go by? Amuse ourselves with the glass menagerie, darling? Eternally play those worn- out phonograph records your father left as a painful reminder of him? We won't have a business career—we've given that up because it gave us nervous in- digestion! [Laughs wearily.] What is there left but dependency all our lives? I know so well what becomes of unmarried women who aren't prepared to occupy a position. I've seen such pitiful cases in the South—barely tolerated spinsters living upon the grudging patronage of sister's husband or brother's wife!—stuck away in some little mouse-trap of a room— encouraged by one in-law to visit another— little birdlike women without any nest—eating the crust of humility all their life! Is that the future that we've mapped out for ourselves? I swear it's the only alternative I can think of! It isn't a very pleasant alternative, is it? Of course—some girls do marry. [LAURA twists her hands nervously.] Haven't you ever liked some boy? LAURA. Yes. I liked one once. [Rises]. I came across his picture a while ago. AMANDA [With some interest]. He gave you his picture? LAURA. No, it's in the year-book. AMANDA [Disappointed]. Oh—a high-school boy. [SCREEN IMAGE: JIM AS HIGH-SCHOOL HERO BEARING A SILVER CUP.] LAURA. Yes. His name was Jim. [LAURA lifts the heavy annual from the claw-foot table.] Here he is in The Pirates of Penzance. AMANDA [Absently]. The what? LAURA. The operetta the senior class put on. He had a wonderful voice and we sat across the aisle from each other Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in the Aud. Here he is with the silver cup for debating! See his grin? AMANDA [Absently]. He must have had a jolly disposition. LAURA. He used to call me—Blue Roses. [IMAGE: BLUE ROSES.] AMANDA. Why did he call you such a name as that? LAURA. When I had that attack of pleurosis —he asked me what was the matter when I came back. I said pleurosis—he thought that I said Blue Roses! That's what he was always called me after that. Whenever he saw me, he'd holler, "Hello, Blue Roses!" I didn't care for the girl that he went out with. Emily Meisenbach. Emily was the best-dressed girl at Soldan. She never struck me, though, as being sincere... It says in the Personal Section—they're en- gaged. That's—six years ago! They must be married by now. AMANDA. Girls that aren't cut out for busi- ness careers usually wind up married to some nice man. [Gets up with a spark of revival.] Sister, that's what you'll do! [LAURA utters a startled, doubtful laugh. She reaches quickly for a piece of glass.] LAURA. But, Mother— AMANDA. Yes? [Crossing to photograph.] LAURA [In a tone of frightened apology]. I'm— crippled! [IMAGE: SCREEN.] AMANDA. Nonsense! Laura, I've told you never, never to use that word. Why, you're not crippled, you just have a little defect—hardly noticeable, even! When people have some slight disadvantage like that, they cultivate other things to make up for it—develop charm —and vivacity—and—charm! That's all you have to do! [She turns again to the photograph.] One thing your father had plenty of—was charm! pleurosis lung inflammation

The Crust of Humility

Amanda expresses despair over Laura's failed business college attempt, fearing she will become a 'pitiful spinster' dependent on relatives.
Laura reveals a past crush on a high school boy named Jim, who nicknamed her 'Blue Roses' after mishearing her diagnosis of pleurosis.
The memory of Jim highlights Laura's isolation, as she notes he is likely married to a girl she deemed insincere.
Amanda pivots from career goals to the necessity of marriage, urging Laura to cultivate 'charm' to overcome her physical disability.
Laura's self-perception as 'crippled' is sharply rebuked by Amanda, who views the condition as a minor defect to be ignored.
The narrative shifts to Tom's perspective, noting that finding a 'gentleman caller' has become his mother's singular obsession.

I've seen such pitiful cases in the South—barely tolerated spinsters living upon the grudging patronage of sister's husband or brother's wife!—stuck away in some little mouse-trap of a room—encouraged by one in-law to visit another—little birdlike women without any nest—eating the crust of humility all their life!

Scene II | The Glass Menagerie AMANDA. You did all this to deceive me, just for deception? [LAURA looks down.] Why? LAURA. Mother, when you're disappointed, you get that awful suffering look on your face, like the picture of Jesus' mother in the museum! AMANDA. Hush! LAURA. I couldn't face it. [Pause. A whisper of strings.] [LEGEND: "THE CRUST OF HUMILITY"] AMANDA [Hopelessly fingering the huge pocketbook]. So what are we going to do the rest of our lives? Stay home and watch the parades go by? Amuse ourselves with the glass menagerie, darling? Eternally play those worn- out phonograph records your father left as a painful reminder of him? We won't have a business career—we've given that up because it gave us nervous in- digestion! [Laughs wearily.] What is there left but dependency all our lives? I know so well what becomes of unmarried women who aren't prepared to occupy a position. I've seen such pitiful cases in the South—barely tolerated spinsters living upon the grudging patronage of sister's husband or brother's wife!—stuck away in some little mouse-trap of a room— encouraged by one in-law to visit another— little birdlike women without any nest—eating the crust of humility all their life! Is that the future that we've mapped out for ourselves? I swear it's the only alternative I can think of! It isn't a very pleasant alternative, is it? Of course—some girls do marry. [LAURA twists her hands nervously.] Haven't you ever liked some boy? LAURA. Yes. I liked one once. [Rises]. I came across his picture a while ago. AMANDA [With some interest]. He gave you his picture? LAURA. No, it's in the year-book. AMANDA [Disappointed]. Oh—a high-school boy. [SCREEN IMAGE: JIM AS HIGH-SCHOOL HERO BEARING A SILVER CUP.] LAURA. Yes. His name was Jim. [LAURA lifts the heavy annual from the claw-foot table.] Here he is in The Pirates of Penzance. AMANDA [Absently]. The what? LAURA. The operetta the senior class put on. He had a wonderful voice and we sat across the aisle from each other Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in the Aud. Here he is with the silver cup for debating! See his grin? AMANDA [Absently]. He must have had a jolly disposition. LAURA. He used to call me—Blue Roses. [IMAGE: BLUE ROSES.] AMANDA. Why did he call you such a name as that? LAURA. When I had that attack of pleurosis —he asked me what was the matter when I came back. I said pleurosis—he thought that I said Blue Roses! That's what he was always called me after that. Whenever he saw me, he'd holler, "Hello, Blue Roses!" I didn't care for the girl that he went out with. Emily Meisenbach. Emily was the best-dressed girl at Soldan. She never struck me, though, as being sincere... It says in the Personal Section—they're en- gaged. That's—six years ago! They must be married by now. AMANDA. Girls that aren't cut out for busi- ness careers usually wind up married to some nice man. [Gets up with a spark of revival.] Sister, that's what you'll do! [LAURA utters a startled, doubtful laugh. She reaches quickly for a piece of glass.] LAURA. But, Mother— AMANDA. Yes? [Crossing to photograph.] LAURA [In a tone of frightened apology]. I'm— crippled! [IMAGE: SCREEN.] AMANDA. Nonsense! Laura, I've told you never, never to use that word. Why, you're not crippled, you just have a little defect—hardly noticeable, even! When people have some slight disadvantage like that, they cultivate other things to make up for it—develop charm —and vivacity—and—charm! That's all you have to do! [She turns again to the photograph.] One thing your father had plenty of—was charm! pleurosis lung inflammation

758 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene III [Tom motions to the fiddle in the wings.] The Scene Fades Out With Music SCENE III LEGEND ON SCREEN: "AFTER THE FIASCO-" TOM speaks from the fire-escape landing. 5 TOM. After the fiasco at Rubicam’s Business College, the idea of getting a gentleman caller for Laura began to play a more and more im- portant part in Mother’s calculations. It became an obsession. Like some archetype 10 of the universal unconscious, the image of the gentleman caller haunted our small apart- ment . . . [IMAGE: YOUNG MAN AT DOOR WITH FLOWERS] An evening at home rarely passed without 15 some allusion to this image, this spectre, this hope . . . Even when he wasn’t mentioned, his pres- ence hung in Mother’s preoccupied look and in my sister’s frightened, apologetic manner— 20 hung like a sentence passed upon the Wing- fields! Mother was a woman of action as well as words. She began to take logical steps in the planned 25 direction. Late that winter and in the early spring— realizing that extra money would be needed to properly feather the nest and plume the bird— she conducted a vigorous campaign on the 30 telephone, roping in subscribers to one of those magazines for matrons called The Home- maker’s Companion, the type of journal that features the serialized sublimations of ladies of letters who think in terms of delicate cup-like 35 breasts, slim, tapering waists, rich, creamy thighs, eyes like wood-smoke in autumn, fingers that soothe and caress like strains of music, bodies as powerful as Etruscan sculp- ture. 40 [SCREEN IMAGE: GLAMOR MAGAZINE COVER.] [AMANDA enters with phone on long extension cord. She is spotted in the dim stage.] AMANDA. Ida Scott? This is Amanda Wing- field! We missed you at the D.A.R. last Monday! I said to myself: She’s probably suffering 45 with that sinus condition! How is that sinus condition? Horrors! Heaven have mercy!—You’re a Christian martyr, yes, that’s what you are, a Christian martyr! 50 Well, I just now happened to notice that your subscription to the Companion’s about to expire! Yes, it expires with the next issue, honey!—just when that wonderful new serial by Bessie Mae Hopper is getting off to such an 55 exciting start Oh, honey, it’s something that you can’t miss! You remember how Gone With the Wind took everybody by storm? You simply couldn’t go out if you hadn’t read it. All every- body talked was Scarlett O’Hara. Well, this is a 60 book that critics already compare to Gone With the Wind. It’s the Gone With the Wind of the post-World War generation!—What?—Burn- ing?—Oh, honey, don’t let them burn, go take a look in the oven and I’ll hold the wire! 65 Heavens—I think she’s hung up! DIM OUT [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "YOU THINK I'M IN LOVE WITH CONTINENTAL SHOEMAKERS?"] [Before the stage is lighted, the violent voices 70 of TOM and AMANDA are heard. They are quar- reling behind the portieres. In front of them stands LAURA with clenched hands and panicky expres- sion. A clear pool of light on her figure throughout this scene.] 75 TOM. What in Christ’s name am I— AMANDA [Shrilly]. Don’t you use that— TOM. Supposed to do! AMANDA. Expression! Not in my— TOM. Ohhh! 80 AMANDA. Presence! Have you gone out of your senses? TOM. I have, that’s true, driven out! AMANDA. What is the matter with you, you —big—big—IDIOT! 85 TOM. Look!—I’ve got no thing, no single thing— AMANDA. Lower your voice! TOM. In my life here that I can call my own! Everything is— 90 AMANDA. Stop that shouting! TOM. Yesterday you confiscated my books!

A Sentence Upon the Wingfields

The memory of the absent father hangs over the family like a permanent sentence or a haunting spectre.
Amanda launches a desperate telemarketing campaign for a ladies' magazine to fund her plans for Laura's future.
Amanda uses aggressive, manipulative charm to sell subscriptions, comparing trashy serials to literary phenomena like Gone With the Wind.
A violent domestic conflict erupts between Tom and Amanda over his autonomy and her censorship of his reading material.
Tom expresses deep resentment over his lack of privacy and his role as the sole provider for a household that stifles him.
The scene highlights the contrast between Amanda's romanticized 'Homemaker's Companion' world and the 'turgid smoky red' reality of their poverty.

Even when he wasn’t mentioned, his presence hung in Mother’s preoccupied look and in my sister’s frightened, apologetic manner—hung like a sentence passed upon the Wingfields!

758 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene III [Tom motions to the fiddle in the wings.] The Scene Fades Out With Music SCENE III LEGEND ON SCREEN: "AFTER THE FIASCO-" TOM speaks from the fire-escape landing. 5 TOM. After the fiasco at Rubicam’s Business College, the idea of getting a gentleman caller for Laura began to play a more and more im- portant part in Mother’s calculations. It became an obsession. Like some archetype 10 of the universal unconscious, the image of the gentleman caller haunted our small apart- ment . . . [IMAGE: YOUNG MAN AT DOOR WITH FLOWERS] An evening at home rarely passed without 15 some allusion to this image, this spectre, this hope . . . Even when he wasn’t mentioned, his pres- ence hung in Mother’s preoccupied look and in my sister’s frightened, apologetic manner— 20 hung like a sentence passed upon the Wing- fields! Mother was a woman of action as well as words. She began to take logical steps in the planned 25 direction. Late that winter and in the early spring— realizing that extra money would be needed to properly feather the nest and plume the bird— she conducted a vigorous campaign on the 30 telephone, roping in subscribers to one of those magazines for matrons called The Home- maker’s Companion, the type of journal that features the serialized sublimations of ladies of letters who think in terms of delicate cup-like 35 breasts, slim, tapering waists, rich, creamy thighs, eyes like wood-smoke in autumn, fingers that soothe and caress like strains of music, bodies as powerful as Etruscan sculp- ture. 40 [SCREEN IMAGE: GLAMOR MAGAZINE COVER.] [AMANDA enters with phone on long extension cord. She is spotted in the dim stage.] AMANDA. Ida Scott? This is Amanda Wing- field! We missed you at the D.A.R. last Monday! I said to myself: She’s probably suffering 45 with that sinus condition! How is that sinus condition? Horrors! Heaven have mercy!—You’re a Christian martyr, yes, that’s what you are, a Christian martyr! 50 Well, I just now happened to notice that your subscription to the Companion’s about to expire! Yes, it expires with the next issue, honey!—just when that wonderful new serial by Bessie Mae Hopper is getting off to such an 55 exciting start Oh, honey, it’s something that you can’t miss! You remember how Gone With the Wind took everybody by storm? You simply couldn’t go out if you hadn’t read it. All every- body talked was Scarlett O’Hara. Well, this is a 60 book that critics already compare to Gone With the Wind. It’s the Gone With the Wind of the post-World War generation!—What?—Burn- ing?—Oh, honey, don’t let them burn, go take a look in the oven and I’ll hold the wire! 65 Heavens—I think she’s hung up! DIM OUT [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "YOU THINK I'M IN LOVE WITH CONTINENTAL SHOEMAKERS?"] [Before the stage is lighted, the violent voices 70 of TOM and AMANDA are heard. They are quar- reling behind the portieres. In front of them stands LAURA with clenched hands and panicky expres- sion. A clear pool of light on her figure throughout this scene.] 75 TOM. What in Christ’s name am I— AMANDA [Shrilly]. Don’t you use that— TOM. Supposed to do! AMANDA. Expression! Not in my— TOM. Ohhh! 80 AMANDA. Presence! Have you gone out of your senses? TOM. I have, that’s true, driven out! AMANDA. What is the matter with you, you —big—big—IDIOT! 85 TOM. Look!—I’ve got no thing, no single thing— AMANDA. Lower your voice! TOM. In my life here that I can call my own! Everything is— 90 AMANDA. Stop that shouting! TOM. Yesterday you confiscated my books!

You had the nerve to — AMANDA I took that horrible novel back to the library -- yes! That hideous book by that insane Mr. Lawrence º [TOM laughs wildly ] 5 I cannot control the output of diseased minds or people who cater to them — [TOM laughs still more wildly ] BUT I WON'T ALLOW SUCH FILTH BROUGHT INTO MY HOUSE! No, no, no, no, no! 10 TOM. House, house! Who pays rent on it, who makes a slave of himself to — AMANDA [Fairly screeching]. Don't you DARE to — TOM. No, no, I mustn't say things! I've got 15 to just — AMANDA. Let me tell you — TOM. I don't want to hear any more! [He tears the portieres open. The upstage area is lit with a turgid smoky red glow.] 20 [AMANDA'S hair is in metal curlers and she wears a very old bathrobe, much too large for her slight figure, a relic of the faithless Mr. Wing- field. An upright typewriter and a wild disarray of manuscripts is on the drop-leaf table. The 25 quarrel was probably precipitated by AMANDA'S interruption of his creative labor. A chair lying overthrown on the floor. Their gesticulating shadows are cast on the ceiling by the fiery glow.] AMANDA. You will hear more, you — 30 TOM No, I won't hear more, I'm going out! AMANDA. You come right back in — TOM. Out, out, out! Because I'm — AMANDA. Come back here, Tom Wingfield! I'm not through talking to you! 35 TOM. Oh, go — LAURA. [Desperately] — Tom! AMANDA. You're going to listen, and no more insolence from you! I'm at the end of my patience! 40 [He comes back toward her.] TOM. What do you think I'm at? Aren't I supposed to have any patience to reach the end of, Mother? I know, I know. It seems un- important to you, what I'm doing — what I want to do — having a little difference between them! 45 You don't think that — AMANDA. I think you've been doing things that you're ashamed of. That's why you act like this. I don't believe that you go every night to the movies. Nobody goes to the movies night 50 after night. Nobody in their right minds goes to the movies as often as you pretend to People don't go to the movies at nearly mid- night, and movies don't let out at two A M Come in stumbling. Muttering to yourself like 55 a maniac! You get three hours' sleep and then go to work. Oh, I can picture the way you're doing down there. Moping, doping, because you're in no condition TOM [Wildly]. No, I'm in no condition! 60 AMANDA. What right have you got to jeop- ardize your job? Jeopardize the security of us all? How do you think we'd manage if you were — TOM. Listen! You think I'm crazy about the 65 warehouse? [He bends fiercely toward her slight figure.] You think I'm in love with the Con- tinental Shoemakers? You think I want to spend fifty-five years down there in that — celotex interior! with — fluorescent — tubes! Look! 70 I'd rather somebody picked up a crowbar and battered out my brains — than go back morn- ings! I go! Every time you come in yelling that God damn "Rise and Shine!" "Rise and Shine!" I say to myself, "How lucky dead people are!" 75 But I get up. I go! For sixty-five dollars a month I give up all that I dream of doing and being ever! And you say self — self's all I ever think of. Why, listen, if self is what I thought of, Mother, I'd be where he is — GONE! [Pointing 80 to father's picture.] As far as the system of trans- portation reaches! [He starts past her. She grabs his arm ] Don't grab at me, Mother! AMANDA. Where are you going? TOM. I'm going to the movies! 85 AMANDA. I don't believe that lie! TOM [Crouching toward her, overtowering her tiny figure. She backs away, gasping] I'm going to opium dens! Yes, opium dens, dens of vice and criminals' hang-outs, Mother I've 90 joined the Hogan gang, I'm a hired assassin, I carry a tommy-gun in a violin case! I run a Lawrence D H Lawrence. English novelist. poet. and critic (1885-1930). some of whose works were assailed for sexual indecency

The Wingfield Family Conflict

A heated confrontation erupts between Tom and Amanda over his late-night habits and lack of transparency.
Amanda accuses Tom of lying about his frequent movie-going and jeopardizing the family's financial security.
Tom expresses deep resentment toward his soul-crushing job at the warehouse and the sacrifices he makes for sixty-five dollars a month.
The tension peaks as Tom compares his situation to his absent father, suggesting he stays only out of a sense of duty.
In a fit of sarcastic rage, Tom invents a fantastical double life as a criminal to mock his mother's suspicions.
The scene ends in physical and emotional chaos as Tom attempts to flee the apartment while his mother and sister watch in horror.

I'd rather somebody picked up a crowbar and battered out my brains — than go back mornings!

You had the nerve to — AMANDA I took that horrible novel back to the library -- yes! That hideous book by that insane Mr. Lawrence º [TOM laughs wildly ] 5 I cannot control the output of diseased minds or people who cater to them — [TOM laughs still more wildly ] BUT I WON'T ALLOW SUCH FILTH BROUGHT INTO MY HOUSE! No, no, no, no, no! 10 TOM. House, house! Who pays rent on it, who makes a slave of himself to — AMANDA [Fairly screeching]. Don't you DARE to — TOM. No, no, I mustn't say things! I've got 15 to just — AMANDA. Let me tell you — TOM. I don't want to hear any more! [He tears the portieres open. The upstage area is lit with a turgid smoky red glow.] 20 [AMANDA'S hair is in metal curlers and she wears a very old bathrobe, much too large for her slight figure, a relic of the faithless Mr. Wing- field. An upright typewriter and a wild disarray of manuscripts is on the drop-leaf table. The 25 quarrel was probably precipitated by AMANDA'S interruption of his creative labor. A chair lying overthrown on the floor. Their gesticulating shadows are cast on the ceiling by the fiery glow.] AMANDA. You will hear more, you — 30 TOM No, I won't hear more, I'm going out! AMANDA. You come right back in — TOM. Out, out, out! Because I'm — AMANDA. Come back here, Tom Wingfield! I'm not through talking to you! 35 TOM. Oh, go — LAURA. [Desperately] — Tom! AMANDA. You're going to listen, and no more insolence from you! I'm at the end of my patience! 40 [He comes back toward her.] TOM. What do you think I'm at? Aren't I supposed to have any patience to reach the end of, Mother? I know, I know. It seems un- important to you, what I'm doing — what I want to do — having a little difference between them! 45 You don't think that — AMANDA. I think you've been doing things that you're ashamed of. That's why you act like this. I don't believe that you go every night to the movies. Nobody goes to the movies night 50 after night. Nobody in their right minds goes to the movies as often as you pretend to People don't go to the movies at nearly mid- night, and movies don't let out at two A M Come in stumbling. Muttering to yourself like 55 a maniac! You get three hours' sleep and then go to work. Oh, I can picture the way you're doing down there. Moping, doping, because you're in no condition TOM [Wildly]. No, I'm in no condition! 60 AMANDA. What right have you got to jeop- ardize your job? Jeopardize the security of us all? How do you think we'd manage if you were — TOM. Listen! You think I'm crazy about the 65 warehouse? [He bends fiercely toward her slight figure.] You think I'm in love with the Con- tinental Shoemakers? You think I want to spend fifty-five years down there in that — celotex interior! with — fluorescent — tubes! Look! 70 I'd rather somebody picked up a crowbar and battered out my brains — than go back morn- ings! I go! Every time you come in yelling that God damn "Rise and Shine!" "Rise and Shine!" I say to myself, "How lucky dead people are!" 75 But I get up. I go! For sixty-five dollars a month I give up all that I dream of doing and being ever! And you say self — self's all I ever think of. Why, listen, if self is what I thought of, Mother, I'd be where he is — GONE! [Pointing 80 to father's picture.] As far as the system of trans- portation reaches! [He starts past her. She grabs his arm ] Don't grab at me, Mother! AMANDA. Where are you going? TOM. I'm going to the movies! 85 AMANDA. I don't believe that lie! TOM [Crouching toward her, overtowering her tiny figure. She backs away, gasping] I'm going to opium dens! Yes, opium dens, dens of vice and criminals' hang-outs, Mother I've 90 joined the Hogan gang, I'm a hired assassin, I carry a tommy-gun in a violin case! I run a Lawrence D H Lawrence. English novelist. poet. and critic (1885-1930). some of whose works were assailed for sexual indecency

760 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene IV string of cat-houses in the Valley! They call me Killer, Killer Wingfield, I'm leading a double- life, a simple, honest warehouse worker by day, by night a dynamic czar of the under- world, Mother. I go to gambling casinos, I spin away fortunes on the roulette table! I wear a patch over one eye and a false mustache, some- times I put on green whiskers. On those oc- casions they call me - El Diablo! Oh, I could tell you things to make you sleepless! My enemies plan to dynamite this place. They're going to blow us all sky-high some night! I'll be glad, very happy, and so will you! You'll go up, up on a broomstick, over Blue Mountain with seventeen gentlemen callers! You ugly - babbling old-witch. [He goes through a series of violent, clumsy movements, seizing his overcoat, lunging to the door, pulling it fiercely open. The women watch him, aghast. His arm catches in the sleeve of the coat as he struggles to pull it on. For a moment he is pinioned by the bulky garment. With an outraged groan he tears the coat off again, splitting the shoulder of it, and hurls it across the room. It strikes against the shelf of LAURA's glass collection, there is a tinkle of shattering glass. LAURA cries out as if wounded.] [MUSIC LEGEND: "THE GLASS MENAGERIE"] LAURA [Shrilly]. My glass! - menagerie... [She covers her face and turns away] [But AMANDA is still stunned and stupefied by the "ugly witch" so that she barely notices this occurrence. Now she recovers her speech.] AMANDA [In an awful voice]. I won't speak to you - until you apologize! [She crosses through portieres and draws them together be- hind her. TOM is left with LAURA. LAURA clings weakly to the mantel with her face averted. TOM stares at her stupidly for a moment. Then he crosses to shelf. Drops awkwardly on his knees to collect the fallen glass, glancing at LAURA as if he would speak but couldn't.] "The Glass Menagerie" steals in as The Scene Dims Out SCENE IV The interior is dark. Faint light in the alley. A deep-voiced bell in a church is tolling the hour of five as the scene commences. TOM appears at the top of the alley. After each solemn boom of the bell in the tower, he shakes a little noise-maker or rattle as if to express the tiny spasm of man in contrast to the sustained power and dignity of the Almighty. This and the un- steadiness of his advance make it evident that he has been drinking. As he climbs the few steps to the fire-escape landing light steals up inside LAURA appears in night-dress, observing TOM'S empty bed in the front room. TOM fishes in his pockets for door-key, removing a motley assort- ment of articles in the search, including a perfect shower of movie-ticket stubs and an empty bottle. At last he finds the key, but just as he is about to insert it, it slips from his fingers. He strikes a match and crouches below the door. TOM [Bitterly]. One crack - and it falls through! [LAURA opens the door.] LAURA. Tom! Tom, what are you doing? TOM. Looking for a door-key. LAURA. Where have you been all this time? TOM. I have been to the movies. LAURA. All this time at the movies? TOM. There was a very long program. There was a Garbo picture and a Mickey Mouse and a travelogue and a newsreel and a preview of coming attractions. And there was an organ solo and a collection for the milk-fund-simul- taneously - which ended up in a terrible fight between a fat lady and an usher! LAURA [Innocently]. Did you have to stay through everything? TOM. Of course! And, oh, I forgot! There was a big stage show! The headliner on this stage show was Malvolio the Magician. He per- formed wonderful tricks, many of them, such as pouring water back and forth between pitchers. First it turned to wine and then it turned to beer and then it turned to whiskey. I know it was whiskey it finally turned into because he needed somebody to come up out of the audience to help him, and I came up - both shows! It was Kentucky Straight Bourbon. A very generous fellow, he gave souvenirs. [He pulls from his back pocket a shimmering rainbow-colored scarf.] He gave me this. This El Diablo Spanish: The Devil

The Coffin Trick

A violent outburst from Tom results in the accidental shattering of Laura's glass menagerie, symbolizing the fragility of their domestic peace.
Amanda demands an apology for Tom's behavior and retreats into a cold silence, further isolating the family members from one another.
Tom returns home in the early morning hours visibly intoxicated, using a noise-maker to mock the solemnity of a church bell.
To explain his absence, Tom describes a surreal movie marathon and a magic show featuring Malvolio the Magician.
Tom presents Laura with a 'magic scarf' but expresses a deep, cynical envy for the magician's ability to escape a nailed coffin without disturbing a single nail.
The metaphor of the coffin highlights Tom's feeling of being trapped in his '2 by 4' life and his desperate desire for a clean escape.

We nailed him into a coffin and he got out of the coffin without removing one nail. There is a trick that would come in handy for me-get me out of this 2 by 4 situation.

760 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene IV string of cat-houses in the Valley! They call me Killer, Killer Wingfield, I'm leading a double- life, a simple, honest warehouse worker by day, by night a dynamic czar of the under- world, Mother. I go to gambling casinos, I spin away fortunes on the roulette table! I wear a patch over one eye and a false mustache, some- times I put on green whiskers. On those oc- casions they call me - El Diablo! Oh, I could tell you things to make you sleepless! My enemies plan to dynamite this place. They're going to blow us all sky-high some night! I'll be glad, very happy, and so will you! You'll go up, up on a broomstick, over Blue Mountain with seventeen gentlemen callers! You ugly - babbling old-witch. [He goes through a series of violent, clumsy movements, seizing his overcoat, lunging to the door, pulling it fiercely open. The women watch him, aghast. His arm catches in the sleeve of the coat as he struggles to pull it on. For a moment he is pinioned by the bulky garment. With an outraged groan he tears the coat off again, splitting the shoulder of it, and hurls it across the room. It strikes against the shelf of LAURA's glass collection, there is a tinkle of shattering glass. LAURA cries out as if wounded.] [MUSIC LEGEND: "THE GLASS MENAGERIE"] LAURA [Shrilly]. My glass! - menagerie... [She covers her face and turns away] [But AMANDA is still stunned and stupefied by the "ugly witch" so that she barely notices this occurrence. Now she recovers her speech.] AMANDA [In an awful voice]. I won't speak to you - until you apologize! [She crosses through portieres and draws them together be- hind her. TOM is left with LAURA. LAURA clings weakly to the mantel with her face averted. TOM stares at her stupidly for a moment. Then he crosses to shelf. Drops awkwardly on his knees to collect the fallen glass, glancing at LAURA as if he would speak but couldn't.] "The Glass Menagerie" steals in as The Scene Dims Out SCENE IV The interior is dark. Faint light in the alley. A deep-voiced bell in a church is tolling the hour of five as the scene commences. TOM appears at the top of the alley. After each solemn boom of the bell in the tower, he shakes a little noise-maker or rattle as if to express the tiny spasm of man in contrast to the sustained power and dignity of the Almighty. This and the un- steadiness of his advance make it evident that he has been drinking. As he climbs the few steps to the fire-escape landing light steals up inside LAURA appears in night-dress, observing TOM'S empty bed in the front room. TOM fishes in his pockets for door-key, removing a motley assort- ment of articles in the search, including a perfect shower of movie-ticket stubs and an empty bottle. At last he finds the key, but just as he is about to insert it, it slips from his fingers. He strikes a match and crouches below the door. TOM [Bitterly]. One crack - and it falls through! [LAURA opens the door.] LAURA. Tom! Tom, what are you doing? TOM. Looking for a door-key. LAURA. Where have you been all this time? TOM. I have been to the movies. LAURA. All this time at the movies? TOM. There was a very long program. There was a Garbo picture and a Mickey Mouse and a travelogue and a newsreel and a preview of coming attractions. And there was an organ solo and a collection for the milk-fund-simul- taneously - which ended up in a terrible fight between a fat lady and an usher! LAURA [Innocently]. Did you have to stay through everything? TOM. Of course! And, oh, I forgot! There was a big stage show! The headliner on this stage show was Malvolio the Magician. He per- formed wonderful tricks, many of them, such as pouring water back and forth between pitchers. First it turned to wine and then it turned to beer and then it turned to whiskey. I know it was whiskey it finally turned into because he needed somebody to come up out of the audience to help him, and I came up - both shows! It was Kentucky Straight Bourbon. A very generous fellow, he gave souvenirs. [He pulls from his back pocket a shimmering rainbow-colored scarf.] He gave me this. This El Diablo Spanish: The Devil

is his magic scarf You can have it, Laura. You wave it over a canary cage and you get a bowl of gold-fish. You wave it over the gold-fish bowl and they fly away canaries . . . But the 5 wonderfullest trick of all was the coffin trick. We nailed him into a coffin and he got out of the coffin without removing one nail. [He has come inside.] There is a trick that would come in handy for me-get me out of this 2 by 4 10 situation. [Flops onto bed and starts removing shoes.] LAURA. Tom-Shhh! TOM What're you shushing me for? LAURA You'll wake up Mother. 15 TOM Goody, goody! Pay 'er back for all those "Rise an' Shines." [Lies down, groaning ] You know it don't take much intelligence to get yourself into a nailed-up coffin, Laura. But who in hell ever got himself out of one without 20 removing one nail? [As if in answer, the father's grinning photo- graph lights up.] Scene Dims Out [Immediately following: The church bell is 25 heard striking six. At the sixth stroke the alarm clock goes off in AMANDA's room, and after a few moments we hear her calling: "Rise and Shine! Rise and Shine! Laura, go tell your brother to rise and shine!"] 30 TOM [Sitting up slowly] I'll rise-but I won't shine. [The light increases ] AMANDA. Laura, tell your brother his coffee is ready. 35 [LAURA slips into front room.] LAURA Tom!-It's nearly seven. Don't make Mother nervous. [He stares at her stupidly. Be- seechingly.] Tom, speak to Mother this morn- ing. Make up with her, apologize, speak to 40 her! TOM She won't to me. It's her that started not speaking. LAURA If you just say you're sorry she'll start speaking. 45 TOM Her not speaking-is that such a tragedy? LAURA Please-please! AMANDA [Calling from kitchenette] Laura, are you going to do what I asked you to do, or do I have to get dressed and go out myself? 50 LAURA Going, going-soon as I get on my coat! [She pulls on a shapeless felt hat with nervous, jerky movement, pleadingly glancing at TOM Rushes awkwardly for coat The coat is one of AMANDA'S, inaccurately made-over, the 55 sleeves too short for LAURA]. Butter and what else? AMANDA [Entering upstage] Just butter. Tell them to charge it. LAURA Mother, they make such faces when 60 I do that. AMANDA Sticks and stones can break our bones, but the expression on Mr. Garfinkel's face won't harm us! Tell your brother his coffee is getting cold 65 LAURA [At door] Do what I asked you, will you, will you, Tom? [He looks sullenly away ] AMANDA Laura, go now or just don't go at all! 70 LAURA [Rushing out]. Going-going! [A second later she cries out. TOM springs up and crosses to door AMANDA rushes anxiously in. TOM opens the door.] TOM Laura? 75 LAURA I'm all right I slipped, but I'm all right. AMANDA [Peering anxiously after her]. If anyone breaks a leg on those fire-escape steps, the landlord ought to be sued for every cent 80 he possesses! [She shuts door. Remembers she isn't speaking and returns to other room ] [As TOM enters listlessly for her coffee, she turns her back to him and stands rigidly facing the window on the gloomy gray vault of the 85 areaway. Its light on her face with its aged but childish features is cruelly sharp, satirical as a Daumier print.] [MUSIC UNDER: "AVE MARIA."] [TOM glances sheepishly but sullenly at her 90 averted figure and slumps at the table. The coffee is scalding hot; he sips it and gasps and spits it back in the cup. At his gasp, AMANDA catches her breath and half turns. Then catches herself and turns back to the window. TOM blows on his 95 coffee, glancing sidewise at his mother. She clears her throat. TOM clears his. He starts to rise. Sinks back down again, scratches his head, clears his

A Fragile Morning Truce

The scene opens with the daily ritual of Amanda's 'Rise and Shine' wake-up call, highlighting the strained domestic routine.
Laura acts as a desperate mediator between her mother and brother, pleading with Tom to apologize and end the silent treatment.
The physical decay of their lives is emphasized by Laura's ill-fitting clothes and her slip on the dangerous fire-escape steps.
Amanda uses guilt and her history of 'solitary battle' to maintain emotional control over Tom, calling him her 'right-hand bower.'
Tom eventually capitulates with a hesitant apology, leading to a dramatic emotional shift from Amanda's cold silence to weeping and renewed fervor.

My devotion has made me a witch and so I make myself hateful to my children!

is his magic scarf You can have it, Laura. You wave it over a canary cage and you get a bowl of gold-fish. You wave it over the gold-fish bowl and they fly away canaries . . . But the 5 wonderfullest trick of all was the coffin trick. We nailed him into a coffin and he got out of the coffin without removing one nail. [He has come inside.] There is a trick that would come in handy for me-get me out of this 2 by 4 10 situation. [Flops onto bed and starts removing shoes.] LAURA. Tom-Shhh! TOM What're you shushing me for? LAURA You'll wake up Mother. 15 TOM Goody, goody! Pay 'er back for all those "Rise an' Shines." [Lies down, groaning ] You know it don't take much intelligence to get yourself into a nailed-up coffin, Laura. But who in hell ever got himself out of one without 20 removing one nail? [As if in answer, the father's grinning photo- graph lights up.] Scene Dims Out [Immediately following: The church bell is 25 heard striking six. At the sixth stroke the alarm clock goes off in AMANDA's room, and after a few moments we hear her calling: "Rise and Shine! Rise and Shine! Laura, go tell your brother to rise and shine!"] 30 TOM [Sitting up slowly] I'll rise-but I won't shine. [The light increases ] AMANDA. Laura, tell your brother his coffee is ready. 35 [LAURA slips into front room.] LAURA Tom!-It's nearly seven. Don't make Mother nervous. [He stares at her stupidly. Be- seechingly.] Tom, speak to Mother this morn- ing. Make up with her, apologize, speak to 40 her! TOM She won't to me. It's her that started not speaking. LAURA If you just say you're sorry she'll start speaking. 45 TOM Her not speaking-is that such a tragedy? LAURA Please-please! AMANDA [Calling from kitchenette] Laura, are you going to do what I asked you to do, or do I have to get dressed and go out myself? 50 LAURA Going, going-soon as I get on my coat! [She pulls on a shapeless felt hat with nervous, jerky movement, pleadingly glancing at TOM Rushes awkwardly for coat The coat is one of AMANDA'S, inaccurately made-over, the 55 sleeves too short for LAURA]. Butter and what else? AMANDA [Entering upstage] Just butter. Tell them to charge it. LAURA Mother, they make such faces when 60 I do that. AMANDA Sticks and stones can break our bones, but the expression on Mr. Garfinkel's face won't harm us! Tell your brother his coffee is getting cold 65 LAURA [At door] Do what I asked you, will you, will you, Tom? [He looks sullenly away ] AMANDA Laura, go now or just don't go at all! 70 LAURA [Rushing out]. Going-going! [A second later she cries out. TOM springs up and crosses to door AMANDA rushes anxiously in. TOM opens the door.] TOM Laura? 75 LAURA I'm all right I slipped, but I'm all right. AMANDA [Peering anxiously after her]. If anyone breaks a leg on those fire-escape steps, the landlord ought to be sued for every cent 80 he possesses! [She shuts door. Remembers she isn't speaking and returns to other room ] [As TOM enters listlessly for her coffee, she turns her back to him and stands rigidly facing the window on the gloomy gray vault of the 85 areaway. Its light on her face with its aged but childish features is cruelly sharp, satirical as a Daumier print.] [MUSIC UNDER: "AVE MARIA."] [TOM glances sheepishly but sullenly at her 90 averted figure and slumps at the table. The coffee is scalding hot; he sips it and gasps and spits it back in the cup. At his gasp, AMANDA catches her breath and half turns. Then catches herself and turns back to the window. TOM blows on his 95 coffee, glancing sidewise at his mother. She clears her throat. TOM clears his. He starts to rise. Sinks back down again, scratches his head, clears his

762 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene IV throat again AMANDA coughs Tom raises his cup in both hands to blow on it, his eyes staring over the rim of it at his mother for several mo- ments Then he slowly sets the cup down and 5 awkwardly and hesitantly rises from the chair.] Tom [Hoarsely] Mother I—I apologize, Mother. [AMANDA draws a quick, shuddering breath Her face works grotesquely She breaks into childlike tears] I'm sorry for what I said, 10 for everything that I said, I didn't mean it. AMANDA [Sobbingly] My devotion has made me a witch and so I make myself hateful to my children! Tom. No, you don't. 15 AMANDA I worry so much, don't sleep, it makes me nervous! Tom [Gently]. I understand that. AMANDA. I've had to put up a solitary battle all these years. But you're my right-hand 20 bower!° Don't fall down, don't fail! Tom [Gently]. I try, Mother. AMANDA [With great enthusiasm] Try and you will SUCCEED! [The notion makes her breath- less.] Why, you—you're just full of natural 25 endowments! Both of my children—they're unusual children! Don't you think I know it? I'm so—proud! Happy and—feel I've—so much to be thankful for but—Promise me one thing, Son! 30 Tom. What, Mother? AMANDA. Promise, son, you'll—never be a drunkard! Tom [Turns to her grinning]. I will never be a drunkard, Mother. 35 AMANDA. That's what frightened me so, that you'd be drinking! Eat a bowl of Purina! Tom. Just coffee, Mother. AMANDA. Shredded wheat biscuit? Tom. No. No, Mother, just coffee. 40 AMANDA. You can't put in a day's work on an empty stomach. You've got ten minutes—don't gulp! Drinking too-hot liquids makes cancer of the stomach. . . Put cream in. Tom. No, thank you. 45 AMANDA. To cool it. Tom. No! No, thank you, I want it black. right-hand bower trump card AMANDA. I know, but it's not good for you. We have to do all that we can to build our- selves up. In these trying times we live in, all that we have to cling to is—each other. . . 50 That's why it's so important to—Tom, I—I sent out your sister so I could discuss something with you. If you hadn't spoken I would have spoken to you. [Sits down.] Tom [Gently]. What is it, Mother, that you 55 want to discuss? AMANDA. Laura! [Tom puts his cup down slowly.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "LAURA."] [MUSIC: "THE GLASS MENAGERIE."] 60 Tom. —Oh. —Laura. . AMANDA [Touching his sleeve]. You know how Laura is. So quiet but—still water runs deep! She notices things and I think she— broods about them. [Tom looks up.] A few days 65 ago I came in and she was crying. Tom. What about? AMANDA. You. Tom. Me? AMANDA. She has an idea that you're not 70 happy here. Tom. What gave her that idea? AMANDA. What gives her any idea? How- ever, you do act strangely. I—I'm not criticiz- ing, understand that! I know your ambitions 75 do not lie in the warehouse, that like every- body in the whole wide world—you've had to—make sacrifices, but—Tom—Tom—life's not easy, it calls for—Spartan endurance! There's so many things in my heart that I 80 cannot describe to you! I've never told you but I—loved your father. . . Tom [Gently]. I know that, Mother. AMANDA. And you—when I see you taking after his ways! Staying out late—and—well, 85 you had been drinking the night you were in that—terrifying condition! Laura says that you hate the apartment and that you go out nights to get away from it! Is that true, Tom? Tom. No. You say there's so much in your 90 heart that you can't describe to me. That's true of me, too. There's so much in my heart that I can't describe to you! So let's respect each other's—

A Mother's Desperate Plea

Amanda expresses her pride in her children while simultaneously revealing her deep-seated fear that Tom is following his father's destructive path.
The dialogue highlights the suffocating domestic tension as Amanda micromanages Tom’s health and habits, from his coffee temperature to his drinking.
Amanda reveals that Laura is deeply affected by the household friction, claiming that Laura 'broods' and cries over Tom's obvious unhappiness.
Tom attempts to explain his emotional isolation, noting that he possesses internal feelings just as indescribable as his mother's.
The conflict culminates in a fundamental misunderstanding of Tom's need for escape, which he justifies as a search for the adventure missing from his warehouse job.
Amanda dismisses Tom's restless spirit, insisting that 'Spartan endurance' and career-based satisfaction should be enough to sustain him.

I go to the movies because—I like adventure. Adventure is something I don’t have much of at work, so I go to the movies.

762 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene IV throat again AMANDA coughs Tom raises his cup in both hands to blow on it, his eyes staring over the rim of it at his mother for several mo- ments Then he slowly sets the cup down and 5 awkwardly and hesitantly rises from the chair.] Tom [Hoarsely] Mother I—I apologize, Mother. [AMANDA draws a quick, shuddering breath Her face works grotesquely She breaks into childlike tears] I'm sorry for what I said, 10 for everything that I said, I didn't mean it. AMANDA [Sobbingly] My devotion has made me a witch and so I make myself hateful to my children! Tom. No, you don't. 15 AMANDA I worry so much, don't sleep, it makes me nervous! Tom [Gently]. I understand that. AMANDA. I've had to put up a solitary battle all these years. But you're my right-hand 20 bower!° Don't fall down, don't fail! Tom [Gently]. I try, Mother. AMANDA [With great enthusiasm] Try and you will SUCCEED! [The notion makes her breath- less.] Why, you—you're just full of natural 25 endowments! Both of my children—they're unusual children! Don't you think I know it? I'm so—proud! Happy and—feel I've—so much to be thankful for but—Promise me one thing, Son! 30 Tom. What, Mother? AMANDA. Promise, son, you'll—never be a drunkard! Tom [Turns to her grinning]. I will never be a drunkard, Mother. 35 AMANDA. That's what frightened me so, that you'd be drinking! Eat a bowl of Purina! Tom. Just coffee, Mother. AMANDA. Shredded wheat biscuit? Tom. No. No, Mother, just coffee. 40 AMANDA. You can't put in a day's work on an empty stomach. You've got ten minutes—don't gulp! Drinking too-hot liquids makes cancer of the stomach. . . Put cream in. Tom. No, thank you. 45 AMANDA. To cool it. Tom. No! No, thank you, I want it black. right-hand bower trump card AMANDA. I know, but it's not good for you. We have to do all that we can to build our- selves up. In these trying times we live in, all that we have to cling to is—each other. . . 50 That's why it's so important to—Tom, I—I sent out your sister so I could discuss something with you. If you hadn't spoken I would have spoken to you. [Sits down.] Tom [Gently]. What is it, Mother, that you 55 want to discuss? AMANDA. Laura! [Tom puts his cup down slowly.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "LAURA."] [MUSIC: "THE GLASS MENAGERIE."] 60 Tom. —Oh. —Laura. . AMANDA [Touching his sleeve]. You know how Laura is. So quiet but—still water runs deep! She notices things and I think she— broods about them. [Tom looks up.] A few days 65 ago I came in and she was crying. Tom. What about? AMANDA. You. Tom. Me? AMANDA. She has an idea that you're not 70 happy here. Tom. What gave her that idea? AMANDA. What gives her any idea? How- ever, you do act strangely. I—I'm not criticiz- ing, understand that! I know your ambitions 75 do not lie in the warehouse, that like every- body in the whole wide world—you've had to—make sacrifices, but—Tom—Tom—life's not easy, it calls for—Spartan endurance! There's so many things in my heart that I 80 cannot describe to you! I've never told you but I—loved your father. . . Tom [Gently]. I know that, Mother. AMANDA. And you—when I see you taking after his ways! Staying out late—and—well, 85 you had been drinking the night you were in that—terrifying condition! Laura says that you hate the apartment and that you go out nights to get away from it! Is that true, Tom? Tom. No. You say there's so much in your 90 heart that you can't describe to me. That's true of me, too. There's so much in my heart that I can't describe to you! So let's respect each other's—

Scene IV | The Glass Menagerie AMANDA But, why—why, Tom—are you always so restless? Where do you go to, nights? TOM I—go to the movies AMANDA Why do you go to the movies so much, Tom? TOM I go to the movies because—I like adventure. Adventure is something I don’t have much of at work, so I go to the movies. AMANDA But, Tom, you go to the movies entirely too much! TOM I like a lot of adventure [AMANDA looks baffled, then hurt. As the familiar inquisition resumes he becomes hard and impatient again. AMANDA slips back into her querulous attitude toward him.] [IMAGE ON SCREEN: SAILING VESSEL° WITH JOLLY ROGER] AMANDA Most young men find adventure in their careers TOM Then most young men are not employed in a warehouse. AMANDA The world is full of young men employed in warehouses and offices and factories. TOM Do all of them find adventure in their careers? AMANDA They do or they do without it! Not everybody has a craze for adventure. TOM Man is by instinct a lover, a hunter, a fighter, and none of those instincts are given much play at the warehouse! AMANDA Man is by instinct! Don’t quote instinct to me! Instinct is something that people have got away from! It belongs to animals! Christian adults don’t want it! TOM What do Christian adults want, then, Mother? AMANDA Superior things! Things of the mind and spirit! Only animals have to satisfy instincts! Surely your aims are somewhat higher than theirs! Than monkeys—pigs— TOM I reckon they’re not AMANDA You’re joking. However, that isn’t what I wanted to discuss TOM [Rising] I haven’t much time AMANDA [Pushing his shoulders]. Sit down. TOM You want me to punch in red° at the warehouse, Mother? AMANDA You have five minutes. I want to talk about Laura. [LEGEND: “PLANS AND PROVISIONS.”] TOM All right! What about Laura? AMANDA We have to be making some plans and provisions for her. She’s older than you, two years, and nothing has happened. She just drifts along doing nothing. It frightens me terribly how she just drifts along. TOM I guess she’s the type that people call home girls. AMANDA There’s no such type, and if there is, it’s a pity! That is unless the home is hers, with a husband! TOM What? AMANDA Oh, I can see the handwriting on the wall as plain as I see the nose in front of my face! It’s terrifying! More and more you remind me of your father! He was out all hours without explanation! —Then left! Good-bye! And me with the bag to hold. I saw that letter you got from the Merchant Marine. I know what you’re dreaming of. I’m not standing here blindfolded. Very well, then. Then do it! But not till there’s somebody to take your place. TOM What do you mean? AMANDA I mean that as soon as Laura has got somebody to take care of her, married, a home of her own, independent—why, then you’ll be free to go wherever you please, on land, on sea, whichever way the wind blows you! But until that time you’ve got to look out for your sister. I don’t say me because I’m old and don’t matter! I say for your sister because she’s young and dependent. I put her in business college—a dismal failure! Frightened her so it made her sick at the stomach. I took her over to the Young People’s League at the church. Another fiasco. She spoke to nobody, nobody spoke to her. Now all she does is fool with those pieces of glass and play those worn-out records. What kind of a life is that for a girl to lead? sailing vessel pirate ship flying the traditional skull-and-crossbones flag punch in red be late in “punching” the time-clock. and so lose pay

Instincts and Obligations

Tom and Amanda clash over the conflict between human animal instincts and the spiritual expectations of 'Christian adults.'
Amanda expresses deep terror regarding Laura's aimless future, noting her failures in business college and social settings.
Amanda reveals she is aware of Tom's secret plans to join the Merchant Marine and follow in his father's footsteps.
A bargain is proposed: Tom can seek his own adventure only after he finds a suitable husband to provide for Laura.
The scene concludes with Amanda desperately imploring Tom to find a 'clean-living' young man at the warehouse to bring home.

Man is by instinct a lover, a hunter, a fighter, and none of those instincts are given much play at the warehouse!

Scene IV | The Glass Menagerie AMANDA But, why—why, Tom—are you always so restless? Where do you go to, nights? TOM I—go to the movies AMANDA Why do you go to the movies so much, Tom? TOM I go to the movies because—I like adventure. Adventure is something I don’t have much of at work, so I go to the movies. AMANDA But, Tom, you go to the movies entirely too much! TOM I like a lot of adventure [AMANDA looks baffled, then hurt. As the familiar inquisition resumes he becomes hard and impatient again. AMANDA slips back into her querulous attitude toward him.] [IMAGE ON SCREEN: SAILING VESSEL° WITH JOLLY ROGER] AMANDA Most young men find adventure in their careers TOM Then most young men are not employed in a warehouse. AMANDA The world is full of young men employed in warehouses and offices and factories. TOM Do all of them find adventure in their careers? AMANDA They do or they do without it! Not everybody has a craze for adventure. TOM Man is by instinct a lover, a hunter, a fighter, and none of those instincts are given much play at the warehouse! AMANDA Man is by instinct! Don’t quote instinct to me! Instinct is something that people have got away from! It belongs to animals! Christian adults don’t want it! TOM What do Christian adults want, then, Mother? AMANDA Superior things! Things of the mind and spirit! Only animals have to satisfy instincts! Surely your aims are somewhat higher than theirs! Than monkeys—pigs— TOM I reckon they’re not AMANDA You’re joking. However, that isn’t what I wanted to discuss TOM [Rising] I haven’t much time AMANDA [Pushing his shoulders]. Sit down. TOM You want me to punch in red° at the warehouse, Mother? AMANDA You have five minutes. I want to talk about Laura. [LEGEND: “PLANS AND PROVISIONS.”] TOM All right! What about Laura? AMANDA We have to be making some plans and provisions for her. She’s older than you, two years, and nothing has happened. She just drifts along doing nothing. It frightens me terribly how she just drifts along. TOM I guess she’s the type that people call home girls. AMANDA There’s no such type, and if there is, it’s a pity! That is unless the home is hers, with a husband! TOM What? AMANDA Oh, I can see the handwriting on the wall as plain as I see the nose in front of my face! It’s terrifying! More and more you remind me of your father! He was out all hours without explanation! —Then left! Good-bye! And me with the bag to hold. I saw that letter you got from the Merchant Marine. I know what you’re dreaming of. I’m not standing here blindfolded. Very well, then. Then do it! But not till there’s somebody to take your place. TOM What do you mean? AMANDA I mean that as soon as Laura has got somebody to take care of her, married, a home of her own, independent—why, then you’ll be free to go wherever you please, on land, on sea, whichever way the wind blows you! But until that time you’ve got to look out for your sister. I don’t say me because I’m old and don’t matter! I say for your sister because she’s young and dependent. I put her in business college—a dismal failure! Frightened her so it made her sick at the stomach. I took her over to the Young People’s League at the church. Another fiasco. She spoke to nobody, nobody spoke to her. Now all she does is fool with those pieces of glass and play those worn-out records. What kind of a life is that for a girl to lead? sailing vessel pirate ship flying the traditional skull-and-crossbones flag punch in red be late in “punching” the time-clock. and so lose pay

764 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene V TOM. What can I do about it? AMANDA. Overcome selfishness! Self, self, self is all that you ever think of! [TOM springs up and crosses to get his coat. It is ugly and bulky. 5 He pulls on a cap with earmuffs.] Where is your muffler? Put your wool muffler on! [He snatches is angrily from the closet and tosses it around his neck and pulls both ends tight.] Tom! I haven't said what I had in mind to ask you. 10 TOM. I'm too late to - AMANDA [Catching his arm—very importu- nately. Then shyly]. Down at the warehouse, aren't there some - nice young men? TOM. No! 15 AMANDA. There must be - some... TOM. Mother - [Gesture.] AMANDA. Find out one that's clean-living - doesn't drink and - ask him out for sister! TOM. What? 20 AMANDA. For sister! To meet! Get acquainted! TOM [Stamping to door]. Oh, my go-osh! AMANDA. Will you? [He opens door. Im- ploring.] Will you? [He starts down.] Will you? Will you, dear? 25 TOM [Calling back]. YES! [AMANDA closes the door hesitantly and with a troubled but faintly hopeful expression.] [SCREEN IMAGE: GLAMOR MAGAZINE COVER.] [Spot AMANDA at phone.] 30 AMANDA. Ella Cartwright? This is Amanda Wingfield! How are you, honey? How is that kidney condition? [Count five.] Horrors! [Count five.] You're a Christian martyr, yes, honey, that's what you are, a Christian martyr! Well, 35 I just now happened to notice in my little red book that your subscription to the Companion has just run out! I knew that you wouldn't want to miss out on the wonderful serial start- ing in this new issue. It's by Bessie Mae 40 Hopper, the first thing she's written since Honeymoon for Three. Wasn't that a strange and interesting story? Well, this one is even lovelier, I believe. It has a sophisticated, society back- ground. It's all about the horsey set on Long 45 Island! Fade Out SCENE V LEGEND ON SCREEN: "ANNUNCIATION." Fade with music. It is early dusk of a spring evening. Supper has just been finished in the Wingfield apartment. 50 AMANDA and LAURA in light-colored dresses are removing dishes from the table, in the upstage area, which is shadowy, their movements for- malized almost as a dance or ritual, their moving forms as pale and silent as moths. TOM, in white 55 shirt and trousers, rises from the table and crosses toward the fire-escape AMANDA [As he passes her] Son, will you do me a favor? TOM. What? 60 AMANDA. Comb your hair! You look so pretty when your hair is combed! [TOM slouches on sofa with evening paper. Enormous caption "Franco Triumphs"] There is only one re- spect in which I would like you to emulate 65 your father. TOM. What respect is that? AMANDA. The care he always took of his appearance. He never allowed himself to look untidy. [He throws down the paper and crosses 70 to fire-escape.] Where are you going? TOM I'm going out to smoke. AMANDA. You smoke too much. A pack a day at fifteen cents a pack. How much would that amount to in a month? Thirty times fifteen is 75 how much, Tom? Figure it out and you will be astounded at what you could save. Enough to give you a night-school course in account- ing at Washington U! Just think what a won- derful thing that would be for you, Son! 80 [TOM is unmoved by the thought.] TOM. I'd rather smoke. [He steps out on land- ing, letting the screen door slam.] AMANDA [Sharply]. I know! That's the tragedy of it... [Alone, she turns to look at her 85 husband's picture.] [DANCE MUSIC: "ALL THE WORLD IS WAITING FOR THE SUNRISE!"] TOM [To the audience]. Across the alley from us was the Paradise Dance Hall. On evenings 90 in spring the windows and doors were open and the music came outdoors. Sometimes the lights were turned out except for a large glass Franco General Francisco Franco, leader of the forces that, with aid from Mussolini and Hitler, finally over- threw the Spanish Republican government in March 1939

Waiting for Bombardments

Amanda Wingfield attempts to sell magazine subscriptions over the phone, using flattery and dramatic appeals to financial struggle.
The family dynamic is strained as Amanda nags Tom about his appearance and his smoking habit, comparing him unfavorably to his absent father.
Amanda suggests Tom use his cigarette money for an accounting course, highlighting her desperate desire for his upward mobility.
Tom provides a cynical narration of the Paradise Dance Hall, where local youth seek romantic escape from their stagnant lives.
The narrative shifts to a global scale, contrasting the trivial distractions of American life with the looming threat of World War II and the Spanish Civil War.

But here there was only hot swing music and liquor, dance halls, bars, and movies, and sex that hung in the gloom like a chandelier and flooded the world with brief, deceptive rainbows . . . All the world was waiting for bombardments!

764 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene V TOM. What can I do about it? AMANDA. Overcome selfishness! Self, self, self is all that you ever think of! [TOM springs up and crosses to get his coat. It is ugly and bulky. 5 He pulls on a cap with earmuffs.] Where is your muffler? Put your wool muffler on! [He snatches is angrily from the closet and tosses it around his neck and pulls both ends tight.] Tom! I haven't said what I had in mind to ask you. 10 TOM. I'm too late to - AMANDA [Catching his arm—very importu- nately. Then shyly]. Down at the warehouse, aren't there some - nice young men? TOM. No! 15 AMANDA. There must be - some... TOM. Mother - [Gesture.] AMANDA. Find out one that's clean-living - doesn't drink and - ask him out for sister! TOM. What? 20 AMANDA. For sister! To meet! Get acquainted! TOM [Stamping to door]. Oh, my go-osh! AMANDA. Will you? [He opens door. Im- ploring.] Will you? [He starts down.] Will you? Will you, dear? 25 TOM [Calling back]. YES! [AMANDA closes the door hesitantly and with a troubled but faintly hopeful expression.] [SCREEN IMAGE: GLAMOR MAGAZINE COVER.] [Spot AMANDA at phone.] 30 AMANDA. Ella Cartwright? This is Amanda Wingfield! How are you, honey? How is that kidney condition? [Count five.] Horrors! [Count five.] You're a Christian martyr, yes, honey, that's what you are, a Christian martyr! Well, 35 I just now happened to notice in my little red book that your subscription to the Companion has just run out! I knew that you wouldn't want to miss out on the wonderful serial start- ing in this new issue. It's by Bessie Mae 40 Hopper, the first thing she's written since Honeymoon for Three. Wasn't that a strange and interesting story? Well, this one is even lovelier, I believe. It has a sophisticated, society back- ground. It's all about the horsey set on Long 45 Island! Fade Out SCENE V LEGEND ON SCREEN: "ANNUNCIATION." Fade with music. It is early dusk of a spring evening. Supper has just been finished in the Wingfield apartment. 50 AMANDA and LAURA in light-colored dresses are removing dishes from the table, in the upstage area, which is shadowy, their movements for- malized almost as a dance or ritual, their moving forms as pale and silent as moths. TOM, in white 55 shirt and trousers, rises from the table and crosses toward the fire-escape AMANDA [As he passes her] Son, will you do me a favor? TOM. What? 60 AMANDA. Comb your hair! You look so pretty when your hair is combed! [TOM slouches on sofa with evening paper. Enormous caption "Franco Triumphs"] There is only one re- spect in which I would like you to emulate 65 your father. TOM. What respect is that? AMANDA. The care he always took of his appearance. He never allowed himself to look untidy. [He throws down the paper and crosses 70 to fire-escape.] Where are you going? TOM I'm going out to smoke. AMANDA. You smoke too much. A pack a day at fifteen cents a pack. How much would that amount to in a month? Thirty times fifteen is 75 how much, Tom? Figure it out and you will be astounded at what you could save. Enough to give you a night-school course in account- ing at Washington U! Just think what a won- derful thing that would be for you, Son! 80 [TOM is unmoved by the thought.] TOM. I'd rather smoke. [He steps out on land- ing, letting the screen door slam.] AMANDA [Sharply]. I know! That's the tragedy of it... [Alone, she turns to look at her 85 husband's picture.] [DANCE MUSIC: "ALL THE WORLD IS WAITING FOR THE SUNRISE!"] TOM [To the audience]. Across the alley from us was the Paradise Dance Hall. On evenings 90 in spring the windows and doors were open and the music came outdoors. Sometimes the lights were turned out except for a large glass Franco General Francisco Franco, leader of the forces that, with aid from Mussolini and Hitler, finally over- threw the Spanish Republican government in March 1939

Scene V | The Glass Menagerie sphere that hung from the ceiling. It would turn slowly about and filter the dusk with delicate rainbow colors. Then the orchestra played a waltz or a tango, something that had 5 a slow and sensuous rhythm. Couples would come outside, to the relative privacy of the alley. You could see them kissing behind ash-pits and telephone poles. This was the compensation for lives that passed like mine, 10 without any change or adventure. Adventure and change were imminent in this year. They were waiting around the corner for all these kids. Suspended in the mist over Berchtes-gaden,° caught in the folds of Chamberlain's 15 umbrella°—In Spain there was Guernica! But here there was only hot swing music and liquor, dance halls, bars, and movies, and sex that hung in the gloom like a chandelier and flooded the world with brief, deceptive 20 rainbows . . . All the world was waiting for bombardments! [AMANDA turns from the picture and comes outside.] AMANDA [Sighing]. A fire-escape landing's 25 a poor excuse for a porch. [She spreads a newspaper on a step and sits down, gracefully and demurely as if she were settling into a swing on a Mississippi veranda.] What are you looking at? TOM. The moon. 30 AMANDA. Is there a moon this evening? TOM. It's rising over Garfinkel's Delicatessen. AMANDA. So it is! A little silver slipper of a moon. Have you made a wish on it yet? 35 TOM. Um-hum. AMANDA. What did you wish for? TOM. That's a secret. AMANDA. A secret, huh? Well, I won't tell mine either. I will be just as mysterious as you. 40 TOM. I bet I can guess what yours is. AMANDA. Is my head so transparent? TOM. You're not a sphinx. AMANDA. No, I don't have secrets. I'll tell Berchtesgaden Hitler's favorite resort in the German Alps Chamberlain's umbrella Neville Chamberlain, British prime minister, 1937–40; often caricatured with his umbrella, he symbolized efforts to satisfy Hitler's ambitions by "appeasement" you what I wished for on the moon. Success and happiness for my precious children! I wish 45 for that whenever there's a moon, and when there isn't a moon, I wish for it, too. TOM. I thought perhaps you wished for a gentleman caller. AMANDA. Why do you say that? 50 TOM. Don't you remember asking me to fetch one? AMANDA. I remember suggesting that it would be nice for your sister if you brought home some nice young man from the ware- 55 house. I think that I've made that suggestion more than once. TOM. Yes, you have made it repeatedly. AMANDA. Well? TOM. We are going to have one. 60 AMANDA. What? TOM. A gentleman caller! [THE ANNUNCIATION IS CELEBRATED WITH MUSIC.] [AMANDA rises.] 65 [IMAGE ON SCREEN: CALLER WITH BOUQUET.] AMANDA. You mean you have asked some nice young man to come over? TOM. Yep. I've asked him to dinner. AMANDA. You really did? 70 TOM. I did! AMANDA. You did, and did he—accept? TOM. He did! AMANDA. Well, well—well, well! That's— lovely! 75 TOM. I thought that you would be pleased. AMANDA. It's definite, then? TOM. Very definite. AMANDA. Soon? TOM. Very soon. 80 AMANDA. For heaven's sake, stop putting on and tell me some things, will you? TOM. What things do you want me to tell you? AMANDA. Naturally I would like to know 85 when he's coming! TOM. He's coming tomorrow. AMANDA. Tomorrow? TOM. Yep. Tomorrow. AMANDA. But, Tom! 90 TOM. Yes, Mother? AMANDA. Tomorrow gives me no time!

The Long-Awaited Gentleman Caller

Amanda and Tom share a rare moment of quiet on the porch, wishing on the moon for success and happiness.
Tom reveals that he has finally fulfilled his mother's repeated request to bring home a 'gentleman caller' for his sister, Laura.
The news of the visitor's arrival triggers an immediate shift from sentimental dreaming to frantic domestic anxiety for Amanda.
Amanda expresses deep shame over Laura's lack of suitors, calling it 'dreadful' and 'disgraceful' that she has never had a caller.
Despite Tom's insistence that the boy is nothing special, Amanda begins planning an elaborate overhaul of their home and appearance.
The tension between mother and son resurfaces as Tom threatens to cancel the invitation to avoid the impending 'fuss' and social performance.

It's rising over Garfinkel's Delicatessen.

Scene V | The Glass Menagerie sphere that hung from the ceiling. It would turn slowly about and filter the dusk with delicate rainbow colors. Then the orchestra played a waltz or a tango, something that had 5 a slow and sensuous rhythm. Couples would come outside, to the relative privacy of the alley. You could see them kissing behind ash-pits and telephone poles. This was the compensation for lives that passed like mine, 10 without any change or adventure. Adventure and change were imminent in this year. They were waiting around the corner for all these kids. Suspended in the mist over Berchtes-gaden,° caught in the folds of Chamberlain's 15 umbrella°—In Spain there was Guernica! But here there was only hot swing music and liquor, dance halls, bars, and movies, and sex that hung in the gloom like a chandelier and flooded the world with brief, deceptive 20 rainbows . . . All the world was waiting for bombardments! [AMANDA turns from the picture and comes outside.] AMANDA [Sighing]. A fire-escape landing's 25 a poor excuse for a porch. [She spreads a newspaper on a step and sits down, gracefully and demurely as if she were settling into a swing on a Mississippi veranda.] What are you looking at? TOM. The moon. 30 AMANDA. Is there a moon this evening? TOM. It's rising over Garfinkel's Delicatessen. AMANDA. So it is! A little silver slipper of a moon. Have you made a wish on it yet? 35 TOM. Um-hum. AMANDA. What did you wish for? TOM. That's a secret. AMANDA. A secret, huh? Well, I won't tell mine either. I will be just as mysterious as you. 40 TOM. I bet I can guess what yours is. AMANDA. Is my head so transparent? TOM. You're not a sphinx. AMANDA. No, I don't have secrets. I'll tell Berchtesgaden Hitler's favorite resort in the German Alps Chamberlain's umbrella Neville Chamberlain, British prime minister, 1937–40; often caricatured with his umbrella, he symbolized efforts to satisfy Hitler's ambitions by "appeasement" you what I wished for on the moon. Success and happiness for my precious children! I wish 45 for that whenever there's a moon, and when there isn't a moon, I wish for it, too. TOM. I thought perhaps you wished for a gentleman caller. AMANDA. Why do you say that? 50 TOM. Don't you remember asking me to fetch one? AMANDA. I remember suggesting that it would be nice for your sister if you brought home some nice young man from the ware- 55 house. I think that I've made that suggestion more than once. TOM. Yes, you have made it repeatedly. AMANDA. Well? TOM. We are going to have one. 60 AMANDA. What? TOM. A gentleman caller! [THE ANNUNCIATION IS CELEBRATED WITH MUSIC.] [AMANDA rises.] 65 [IMAGE ON SCREEN: CALLER WITH BOUQUET.] AMANDA. You mean you have asked some nice young man to come over? TOM. Yep. I've asked him to dinner. AMANDA. You really did? 70 TOM. I did! AMANDA. You did, and did he—accept? TOM. He did! AMANDA. Well, well—well, well! That's— lovely! 75 TOM. I thought that you would be pleased. AMANDA. It's definite, then? TOM. Very definite. AMANDA. Soon? TOM. Very soon. 80 AMANDA. For heaven's sake, stop putting on and tell me some things, will you? TOM. What things do you want me to tell you? AMANDA. Naturally I would like to know 85 when he's coming! TOM. He's coming tomorrow. AMANDA. Tomorrow? TOM. Yep. Tomorrow. AMANDA. But, Tom! 90 TOM. Yes, Mother? AMANDA. Tomorrow gives me no time!

766 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene V TOM. Time for what? AMANDA. Preparations! Why didn't you phone me at once, as soon as you asked him, the minute that he accepted? Then, don't you 5 see, I could have been getting ready! TOM. You don't have to make any fuss. AMANDA. Oh, Tom, Tom, Tom, of course I have to make a fuss! I want things nice, not sloppy! Not thrown together. I'll certainly have 10 to do some fast thinking, won't I? TOM. I don't see why you have to think at all. AMANDA. You just don't know. We can't have a gentleman caller in a pig-sty. All my wedding silver has to be polished, the mono- 15 grammed table linen ought to be laundered! The windows have to be washed and fresh curtains put up. And how about clothes? We have to wear something, don't we? TOM. Mother, this boy is no one to make a 20 fuss over! AMANDA. Do you realize he's the first young man we've introduced to your sister? It's ter- rible, dreadful, disgraceful that poor little sister has never received a single gentleman 25 caller! Tom, come inside! [She opens the screen door.] TOM. What for? AMANDA. I want to ask you some things. TOM. If you're going to make such a fuss, I'll 30 call it off, I'll tell him not to come! AMANDA. You certainly won't do anything of the kind. Nothing offends people worse than broken engagements. It simply means I'll have to work like a Turk! We won't be brilliant, 35 but we will pass inspection. Come on inside. [TOM follows, groaning.] Sit down. TOM. Any particular place you would like me to sit? AMANDA. Thank heavens I've got that new 40 sofa! I'm also making payments on a floor lamp I'll have that sent out! And put the chintz covers on, they'll brighten things up! Of course I'd hoped to have these walls re-papered. . . . What is the young man's name? 45 TOM. His name is O'Connor. AMANDA. That, of course, means fish°— means fish assuming that he is an Irish Catholic and will observe the then usual rule against eating meat on Fridays tomorrow is Friday! I'll have that salmon loaf —with Durkee's dressing! What does he do? He works at the warehouse? TOM. Of course! How else would I— 50 AMANDA. Tom, he—doesn't drink? TOM. Why do you ask me that? AMANDA. Your father did! TOM. Not that I know of! AMANDA. He does drink, then? 55 TOM. Not that I know of! AMANDA. Make sure, be certain! The last thing I want for my daughter's a boy who drinks! TOM. Aren't you being a little bit prema- 60 ture? Mr. O'Connor has not yet appeared on the scene! AMANDA. But will tomorrow. To meet your sister, and what do I know about his character? Nothing! Old maids are better off than wives 65 of drunkards! TOM. Oh, my God! AMANDA. Be still! TOM [Leaning forward to whisper]. Lots of fellows meet girls whom they don't marry! 70 AMANDA. Oh, talk sensibly, Tom—and don't be sarcastic! [She has gotten a hairbrush.] TOM. What are you doing? AMANDA. I'm brushing that cow-lick down! What is this young man's position at the ware- 75 house? TOM [Submitting grimly to the brush and the interrogation]. This young man's position is that of a shipping clerk, Mother. AMANDA. Sounds to me like a fairly re- 80 sponsible job, the sort of a job you would be in if you just had more get-up. What is his salary? Have you any idea? TOM. I would judge it to be approximately eighty-five dollars a month. 85 AMANDA. Well—not princely, but— TOM. Twenty more than I make. AMANDA. Yes, how well I know! But for a family man, eighty-five dollars a month is not much more than you can just get by on. 90 TOM. Yes, but Mr. O'Connor is not a family man. AMANDA. He might be, mightn't he? Some time in the future? TOM. I see. Plans and provisions. 95

Plans and Provisions

Amanda Wingfield frantically prepares for a 'gentleman caller' by arranging furniture and planning a menu based on the guest's presumed Irish Catholic background.
Amanda interrogates Tom about Mr. O'Connor's character, specifically obsessing over whether he is a drinker like her absent husband.
The conversation reveals the family's financial struggles, noting that the guest earns eighty-five dollars a month, which is twenty more than Tom's salary.
Amanda lectures Tom on the necessity of planning for the future to avoid 'everlasting regret,' while Tom responds with weary sarcasm.
The dialogue highlights Amanda's past trauma, as she admits her own 'tragic mistake' was being fooled by her husband's handsome appearance and charm.
Tom describes O'Connor as 'medium homely' with freckles, which satisfies Amanda's new belief that character is more important than looks.

The future becomes the present, the present the past, and the past turns into everlasting regret if you don't plan for it!

766 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene V TOM. Time for what? AMANDA. Preparations! Why didn't you phone me at once, as soon as you asked him, the minute that he accepted? Then, don't you 5 see, I could have been getting ready! TOM. You don't have to make any fuss. AMANDA. Oh, Tom, Tom, Tom, of course I have to make a fuss! I want things nice, not sloppy! Not thrown together. I'll certainly have 10 to do some fast thinking, won't I? TOM. I don't see why you have to think at all. AMANDA. You just don't know. We can't have a gentleman caller in a pig-sty. All my wedding silver has to be polished, the mono- 15 grammed table linen ought to be laundered! The windows have to be washed and fresh curtains put up. And how about clothes? We have to wear something, don't we? TOM. Mother, this boy is no one to make a 20 fuss over! AMANDA. Do you realize he's the first young man we've introduced to your sister? It's ter- rible, dreadful, disgraceful that poor little sister has never received a single gentleman 25 caller! Tom, come inside! [She opens the screen door.] TOM. What for? AMANDA. I want to ask you some things. TOM. If you're going to make such a fuss, I'll 30 call it off, I'll tell him not to come! AMANDA. You certainly won't do anything of the kind. Nothing offends people worse than broken engagements. It simply means I'll have to work like a Turk! We won't be brilliant, 35 but we will pass inspection. Come on inside. [TOM follows, groaning.] Sit down. TOM. Any particular place you would like me to sit? AMANDA. Thank heavens I've got that new 40 sofa! I'm also making payments on a floor lamp I'll have that sent out! And put the chintz covers on, they'll brighten things up! Of course I'd hoped to have these walls re-papered. . . . What is the young man's name? 45 TOM. His name is O'Connor. AMANDA. That, of course, means fish°— means fish assuming that he is an Irish Catholic and will observe the then usual rule against eating meat on Fridays tomorrow is Friday! I'll have that salmon loaf —with Durkee's dressing! What does he do? He works at the warehouse? TOM. Of course! How else would I— 50 AMANDA. Tom, he—doesn't drink? TOM. Why do you ask me that? AMANDA. Your father did! TOM. Not that I know of! AMANDA. He does drink, then? 55 TOM. Not that I know of! AMANDA. Make sure, be certain! The last thing I want for my daughter's a boy who drinks! TOM. Aren't you being a little bit prema- 60 ture? Mr. O'Connor has not yet appeared on the scene! AMANDA. But will tomorrow. To meet your sister, and what do I know about his character? Nothing! Old maids are better off than wives 65 of drunkards! TOM. Oh, my God! AMANDA. Be still! TOM [Leaning forward to whisper]. Lots of fellows meet girls whom they don't marry! 70 AMANDA. Oh, talk sensibly, Tom—and don't be sarcastic! [She has gotten a hairbrush.] TOM. What are you doing? AMANDA. I'm brushing that cow-lick down! What is this young man's position at the ware- 75 house? TOM [Submitting grimly to the brush and the interrogation]. This young man's position is that of a shipping clerk, Mother. AMANDA. Sounds to me like a fairly re- 80 sponsible job, the sort of a job you would be in if you just had more get-up. What is his salary? Have you any idea? TOM. I would judge it to be approximately eighty-five dollars a month. 85 AMANDA. Well—not princely, but— TOM. Twenty more than I make. AMANDA. Yes, how well I know! But for a family man, eighty-five dollars a month is not much more than you can just get by on. 90 TOM. Yes, but Mr. O'Connor is not a family man. AMANDA. He might be, mightn't he? Some time in the future? TOM. I see. Plans and provisions. 95

Scene V | The Glass Menagerie AMANDA You are the only young man that I know of who ignores the fact that the future becomes the present, the present the past, and the past turns into everlasting regret if you 5 don't plan for it! TOM I will think that over and see what I can make of it. AMANDA Don't be supercilious with your mother! Tell me some more about this—what 10 do you call him? TOM James D O'Connor. The D. is for De- laney. AMANDA Irish on both sides! Gracious! And doesn't drink? 15 TOM Shall I call him up and ask him right this minute? AMANDA The only way to find out about those things is to make discreet inquiries at the proper moment. When I was a girl in Blue 20 Mountain and it was suspected that a young man drank, the girl whose attentions he had been receiving, if any girl was, would some- times speak to the minister of his church, or rather her father would if her father was living, 25 and sort of feel him out on the young man's character. That is the way such things are dis- creetly handled to keep a young woman from making a tragic mistake! TOM Then how did you happen to make a 30 tragic mistake? AMANDA That innocent look of your father's had everyone fooled! He smiled—the world was enchanted! No girl can do worse than put her- self at the mercy of a handsome appearance! I 35 hope that Mr. O'Connor is not too good- looking. TOM No, he's not too good-looking. He's covered with freckles and hasn't too much of a nose. 40 AMANDA He's not right-down homely, though? TOM Not right-down homely. Just medium homely, I'd say. AMANDA Character's what to look for in a 45 man. TOM That's what I've always said, Mother. AMANDA You've never said anything of the kind and I suspect you would never give it a thought. TOM Don't be so suspicious of me. 50 AMANDA At least I hope he's the type that's up and coming. TOM I think he really goes in for self-im- provement. AMANDA What reason have you to think so? 55 TOM He goes to night school. AMANDA [Beaming] Splendid! What does he do, I mean study? TOM Radio engineering and public speak- ing! 60 AMANDA Then he has visions of being ad- vanced in the world! Any young man who studies public speaking is aiming to have an executive job some day! And radio engineer- ing? A thing for the future! Both of these facts 65 are very illuminating. Those are the sort of things that a mother should know concerning any young man who comes to call on her daughter. Seriously or—not. TOM One little warning. He doesn't know 70 about Laura. I didn't let on that we had dark ulterior motives. I just said, why don't you come and have dinner with us? He said okay and that was the whole conversation. AMANDA I bet it was! You're eloquent as 75 an oyster. However, he'll know about Laura when he gets here. When he sees how lovely and sweet and pretty she is, he'll thank his lucky stars he was asked to dinner. TOM Mother, you mustn't expect too much 80 of Laura. AMANDA What do you mean? TOM Laura seems all those things to you and me because she's ours and we love her. We don't even notice she's crippled any more 85 AMANDA Don't say crippled You know that I never allow that word to be used! TOM But face facts, Mother She is and— that's not all— AMANDA What do you mean "not all"? 90 TOM Laura is very different from other girls. AMANDA I think the difference is all to her advantage. TOM Not quite all—in the eyes of others— strangers—she's terribly shy and lives in a 95 world of her own and those things make her seem a little peculiar to people outside the house.

Visions of the Gentleman Caller

Amanda expresses high hopes for the upcoming visitor, interpreting his studies in radio engineering and public speaking as signs of executive ambition.
Tom warns his mother that the visitor is unaware of their 'ulterior motives' regarding Laura.
A conflict arises over the description of Laura, as Amanda refuses to acknowledge terms like 'crippled' or 'peculiar' that Tom uses to describe her reality.
Tom highlights Laura's extreme isolation, noting she lives in a private world of glass ornaments and old phonograph records.
The scene ends with Amanda forcing a moment of desperate optimism, demanding Laura make a wish for happiness on the moon.

She lives in a world of her own—a world of little glass ornaments, Mother.

Scene V | The Glass Menagerie AMANDA You are the only young man that I know of who ignores the fact that the future becomes the present, the present the past, and the past turns into everlasting regret if you 5 don't plan for it! TOM I will think that over and see what I can make of it. AMANDA Don't be supercilious with your mother! Tell me some more about this—what 10 do you call him? TOM James D O'Connor. The D. is for De- laney. AMANDA Irish on both sides! Gracious! And doesn't drink? 15 TOM Shall I call him up and ask him right this minute? AMANDA The only way to find out about those things is to make discreet inquiries at the proper moment. When I was a girl in Blue 20 Mountain and it was suspected that a young man drank, the girl whose attentions he had been receiving, if any girl was, would some- times speak to the minister of his church, or rather her father would if her father was living, 25 and sort of feel him out on the young man's character. That is the way such things are dis- creetly handled to keep a young woman from making a tragic mistake! TOM Then how did you happen to make a 30 tragic mistake? AMANDA That innocent look of your father's had everyone fooled! He smiled—the world was enchanted! No girl can do worse than put her- self at the mercy of a handsome appearance! I 35 hope that Mr. O'Connor is not too good- looking. TOM No, he's not too good-looking. He's covered with freckles and hasn't too much of a nose. 40 AMANDA He's not right-down homely, though? TOM Not right-down homely. Just medium homely, I'd say. AMANDA Character's what to look for in a 45 man. TOM That's what I've always said, Mother. AMANDA You've never said anything of the kind and I suspect you would never give it a thought. TOM Don't be so suspicious of me. 50 AMANDA At least I hope he's the type that's up and coming. TOM I think he really goes in for self-im- provement. AMANDA What reason have you to think so? 55 TOM He goes to night school. AMANDA [Beaming] Splendid! What does he do, I mean study? TOM Radio engineering and public speak- ing! 60 AMANDA Then he has visions of being ad- vanced in the world! Any young man who studies public speaking is aiming to have an executive job some day! And radio engineer- ing? A thing for the future! Both of these facts 65 are very illuminating. Those are the sort of things that a mother should know concerning any young man who comes to call on her daughter. Seriously or—not. TOM One little warning. He doesn't know 70 about Laura. I didn't let on that we had dark ulterior motives. I just said, why don't you come and have dinner with us? He said okay and that was the whole conversation. AMANDA I bet it was! You're eloquent as 75 an oyster. However, he'll know about Laura when he gets here. When he sees how lovely and sweet and pretty she is, he'll thank his lucky stars he was asked to dinner. TOM Mother, you mustn't expect too much 80 of Laura. AMANDA What do you mean? TOM Laura seems all those things to you and me because she's ours and we love her. We don't even notice she's crippled any more 85 AMANDA Don't say crippled You know that I never allow that word to be used! TOM But face facts, Mother She is and— that's not all— AMANDA What do you mean "not all"? 90 TOM Laura is very different from other girls. AMANDA I think the difference is all to her advantage. TOM Not quite all—in the eyes of others— strangers—she's terribly shy and lives in a 95 world of her own and those things make her seem a little peculiar to people outside the house.

768 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VI AMANDA. Don't say peculiar. TOM. Face the facts. She is. [THE DANCE-HALL MUSIC CHANGES TO A TANGO THAT HAS A MINOR AND SOMEWHAT OMINOUS TONE.] AMANDA. In what way is she peculiar—may I ask? TOM [Gently]. She lives in a world of her own—a world of little glass ornaments, Mother. [Gets up. AMANDA remains holding brush, looking at him, troubled] She plays old phonograph records and—that's about all—[He glances at himself in the mirror and crosses to door.] AMANDA [Sharply]. Where are you going? TOM. I'm going to the movies. [Out screen door.] AMANDA. Not to the movies, every night to the movies! [Follows quickly to screen door.] I don't believe you always go to the movies! [He is gone. AMANDA looks worriedly after him for a moment. Then vitality and optimism return and she turns from the door. Crossing to portieres.] Laura! Laura! [LAURA answers from kitchenette.] LAURA. Yes, Mother. AMANDA. Let those dishes go and come in front! [LAURA appears with dish towel. Gaily.] Laura, come here and make a wish on the moon! [SCREEN IMAGE: MOON.] LAURA [Entering]. Moon—moon? AMANDA. A little silver slipper of a moon. Look over your left shoulder, Laura, and make a wish! [LAURA looks faintly puzzled as if called out of sleep. AMANDA seizes her shoulders and turns her at an angle by the door.] Now! Now, darling, wish! LAURA. What shall I wish for, Mother? AMANDA [Her voice trembling and her eyes suddenly filling with tears]. Happiness, Good fortune! [The violin rises and the stage dims out.] Curtain SCENE VI [IMAGE: HIGH SCHOOL HERO.] TOM. And so the following evening I brought Jim home to dinner. I had known Jim slightly in high school. In high school Jim was a hero. He had tremendous Irish good nature and vitality with the scrubbed and polished look of white chinaware. He seemed to move in a continual spotlight. He was a star in basketball, captain of the debating club, president of the senior class and the glee club and he sang the male lead in the annual light operas. He was always running or bounding, never just walking. He seemed always at the point of defeating the law of gravity. He was shooting with such velocity through his adolescence that you would logically expect him to arrive at nothing short of the White House by the time he was thirty. But Jim apparently ran into more interference after his graduation from Soldan. His speed had definitely slowed. Six years after he left high school he was holding a job that wasn't much better than mine. [IMAGE: CLERK.] He was the only one at the warehouse with whom I was on friendly terms. It was valuable to him as someone who could remember his former glory, who had seen him win basketball games and the silver cup in debating. He knew of my secret practice of retiring to a cabinet of the wash-room to work on poems when business was slack in the warehouse. He called me Shakespeare. And while the other boys in the warehouse regarded me with suspicious hostility, Jim took a humorous attitude toward me. Gradually his attitude affected the others, their hostility wore off and they also began to smile at me as people smile at an oddly fashioned dog who trots across their path at some distance. I knew that Jim and Laura had known each other at Soldan, and I had heard Laura speak admiringly of his voice. I didn't know if Jim remembered her or not. In high school Laura had been as unobtrusive as Jim had been astonishing. If he did remember Laura, it was not as my sister, for when I asked him to dinner, he grinned and said, "You know, Shakespeare, I never thought of you as having folks!" He was about to discover that I did. . . . [Light up stage.]

The Arrival of Jim O'Connor

Tom introduces Jim O'Connor, a former high school star whose trajectory toward greatness has stalled in a mundane warehouse job.
Jim serves as Tom's only friend at work, protecting him from the hostility of other coworkers who find Tom's poetry-writing eccentric.
Amanda undergoes a frantic, 'ritualistic' preparation of the apartment to impress the long-awaited gentleman caller.
Laura is transformed by a new dress and hairstyle, achieving a fragile, 'unearthly' beauty that mirrors her glass collection.
The tension between Amanda’s desperate expectations and Laura’s paralyzing anxiety reaches a peak as the guest's arrival nears.

A fragile, unearthly prettiness has come out in LAURA: she is like a piece of translucent glass touched by light, given a momentary radiance, not actual, not lasting.

768 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VI AMANDA. Don't say peculiar. TOM. Face the facts. She is. [THE DANCE-HALL MUSIC CHANGES TO A TANGO THAT HAS A MINOR AND SOMEWHAT OMINOUS TONE.] AMANDA. In what way is she peculiar—may I ask? TOM [Gently]. She lives in a world of her own—a world of little glass ornaments, Mother. [Gets up. AMANDA remains holding brush, looking at him, troubled] She plays old phonograph records and—that's about all—[He glances at himself in the mirror and crosses to door.] AMANDA [Sharply]. Where are you going? TOM. I'm going to the movies. [Out screen door.] AMANDA. Not to the movies, every night to the movies! [Follows quickly to screen door.] I don't believe you always go to the movies! [He is gone. AMANDA looks worriedly after him for a moment. Then vitality and optimism return and she turns from the door. Crossing to portieres.] Laura! Laura! [LAURA answers from kitchenette.] LAURA. Yes, Mother. AMANDA. Let those dishes go and come in front! [LAURA appears with dish towel. Gaily.] Laura, come here and make a wish on the moon! [SCREEN IMAGE: MOON.] LAURA [Entering]. Moon—moon? AMANDA. A little silver slipper of a moon. Look over your left shoulder, Laura, and make a wish! [LAURA looks faintly puzzled as if called out of sleep. AMANDA seizes her shoulders and turns her at an angle by the door.] Now! Now, darling, wish! LAURA. What shall I wish for, Mother? AMANDA [Her voice trembling and her eyes suddenly filling with tears]. Happiness, Good fortune! [The violin rises and the stage dims out.] Curtain SCENE VI [IMAGE: HIGH SCHOOL HERO.] TOM. And so the following evening I brought Jim home to dinner. I had known Jim slightly in high school. In high school Jim was a hero. He had tremendous Irish good nature and vitality with the scrubbed and polished look of white chinaware. He seemed to move in a continual spotlight. He was a star in basketball, captain of the debating club, president of the senior class and the glee club and he sang the male lead in the annual light operas. He was always running or bounding, never just walking. He seemed always at the point of defeating the law of gravity. He was shooting with such velocity through his adolescence that you would logically expect him to arrive at nothing short of the White House by the time he was thirty. But Jim apparently ran into more interference after his graduation from Soldan. His speed had definitely slowed. Six years after he left high school he was holding a job that wasn't much better than mine. [IMAGE: CLERK.] He was the only one at the warehouse with whom I was on friendly terms. It was valuable to him as someone who could remember his former glory, who had seen him win basketball games and the silver cup in debating. He knew of my secret practice of retiring to a cabinet of the wash-room to work on poems when business was slack in the warehouse. He called me Shakespeare. And while the other boys in the warehouse regarded me with suspicious hostility, Jim took a humorous attitude toward me. Gradually his attitude affected the others, their hostility wore off and they also began to smile at me as people smile at an oddly fashioned dog who trots across their path at some distance. I knew that Jim and Laura had known each other at Soldan, and I had heard Laura speak admiringly of his voice. I didn't know if Jim remembered her or not. In high school Laura had been as unobtrusive as Jim had been astonishing. If he did remember Laura, it was not as my sister, for when I asked him to dinner, he grinned and said, "You know, Shakespeare, I never thought of you as having folks!" He was about to discover that I did. . . . [Light up stage.]

Scene VI | The Glass Menagerie [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "THE ACCENT OF A COMING FOOT."]° Friday evening. It is about five o'clock of a late spring evening which comes "scattering 5 poems in the sky"° A delicate lemony light is in the Wingfield apartment. AMANDA has worked like a Turk in preparation for the gentleman caller. The results are astonishing. The new floor lamp with its rose-silk shade is in place, a colored 10 paper lantern conceals the broken light-fixture in the ceiling, new billowing white curtains are at the windows, chintz covers are on chairs and sofa, a pair of new sofa pillows make their initial appearance. Open boxes and tissue paper are 15 scattered on the floor. LAURA stands in the middle with lifted arms while AMANDA crouches before her, adjusting the hem of the new dress, devout and ritualistic. The dress is colored and designed by memory. The arrangement of LAURA's hair is 20 changed; it is softer and more becoming. A fragile, unearthly prettiness has come out in LAURA: she is like a piece of translucent glass touched by light, given a momentary radiance, not actual, not lasting. 25 AMANDA [Impatiently]. Why are you trem- bling? LAURA. Mother, you've made me so nervous! AMANDA. How have I made you nervous? LAURA. By all this fuss! You make it seem so 30 important! AMANDA. I don't understand you, Laura. You couldn't be satisfied with just sitting home, and yet whenever I try to arrange some- thing for you, you seem to resist it. [She gets "The accent of a coming foot" from a poem by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886): Elysium is as far as to The very nearest room. If in that room a friend await Felicity or doom What fortitude the soul contains That it can so endure The accent of a coming foot, The opening of a door! "scattering poems in the sky" partly quoted from a poem by E. E. Cummings (1894–1962). 'Impressions. IV' up.] Now take a look at yourself. No, wait! 35 Wait just a moment—I have an idea! LAURA. What is it now? [AMANDA produces two powder puffs which she wraps in handerchiefs and stuffs in LAURA's bosom.] 40 LAURA. Mother, what are you doing? AMANDA. They call them "Gay Deceivers"! LAURA. I won't wear them! AMANDA. You will! LAURA. Why should I? 45 AMANDA. Because, to be painfully honest, your chest is flat. LAURA. You make it seem like we were setting a trap. AMANDA. All pretty girls are a trap, a pretty 50 trap, and men expect them to be. [LEGEND: "A PRETTY TRAP".] Now look at yourself, young lady. This is the prettiest you will ever be! I've got to fix myself now! You're going to be surprised by your mother's appearance! [She 55 crosses through portieres, humming gaily. LAURA moves slowly to the long mirror and stares solemnly at herself. A wind blows the white curtains inward in a slow, graceful motion and with a faint, sorrowful sighing.] 60 AMANDA [Off stage]. It isn't dark enough yet. [She turns slowly before the mirror with a troubled look.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "THIS IS MY SISTER: CELEBRATE HER WITH STRINGS!" MUSIC.] 65 AMANDA [Laughing, off]. I'm going to show you something. I'm going to make a spectac- ular appearance! LAURA. What is it, Mother? AMANDA. Possess your soul in patience— 70 you will see! Something I've resurrected from that old trunk! Styles haven't changed so terribly much after all. . . . [She parts the por- tieres.] Now just look at your mother! [She wears a girlish frock of yellowed voile with a blue 75 silk sash. She carries a bunch of jonquils—the legend of her youth is nearly revived. Feverishly.] This is the dress in which I led the cotillion. Won the cakewalk twice at Sunset Hill, wore one spring to the Governor's ball in Jackson! 80 See how I sashayed around the ballroom, Laura? [She raises her skirt and does a mincing

The Pretty Trap

Amanda prepares Laura for a gentleman caller by padding her dress with 'Gay Deceivers,' viewing womanhood as a strategic performance.
Amanda retreats into a feverish memory of her own youth, donning an old dress and recounting her obsession with jonquils and her many suitors.
The dialogue reveals Amanda’s cynical yet pragmatic view that all pretty girls are 'traps' that men expect to be caught by.
The atmosphere shifts from frantic preparation to a haunting nostalgia as Amanda describes the spring she met Laura's father while suffering from malaria.
The scene reaches a climax of tension when Laura discovers the identity of the expected guest is a man named Jim.
Laura’s physical reaction to the name 'Jim' suggests a painful past connection, casting a shadow over Amanda's optimistic preparations.

All pretty girls are a trap, a pretty trap, and men expect them to be.

Scene VI | The Glass Menagerie [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "THE ACCENT OF A COMING FOOT."]° Friday evening. It is about five o'clock of a late spring evening which comes "scattering 5 poems in the sky"° A delicate lemony light is in the Wingfield apartment. AMANDA has worked like a Turk in preparation for the gentleman caller. The results are astonishing. The new floor lamp with its rose-silk shade is in place, a colored 10 paper lantern conceals the broken light-fixture in the ceiling, new billowing white curtains are at the windows, chintz covers are on chairs and sofa, a pair of new sofa pillows make their initial appearance. Open boxes and tissue paper are 15 scattered on the floor. LAURA stands in the middle with lifted arms while AMANDA crouches before her, adjusting the hem of the new dress, devout and ritualistic. The dress is colored and designed by memory. The arrangement of LAURA's hair is 20 changed; it is softer and more becoming. A fragile, unearthly prettiness has come out in LAURA: she is like a piece of translucent glass touched by light, given a momentary radiance, not actual, not lasting. 25 AMANDA [Impatiently]. Why are you trem- bling? LAURA. Mother, you've made me so nervous! AMANDA. How have I made you nervous? LAURA. By all this fuss! You make it seem so 30 important! AMANDA. I don't understand you, Laura. You couldn't be satisfied with just sitting home, and yet whenever I try to arrange some- thing for you, you seem to resist it. [She gets "The accent of a coming foot" from a poem by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886): Elysium is as far as to The very nearest room. If in that room a friend await Felicity or doom What fortitude the soul contains That it can so endure The accent of a coming foot, The opening of a door! "scattering poems in the sky" partly quoted from a poem by E. E. Cummings (1894–1962). 'Impressions. IV' up.] Now take a look at yourself. No, wait! 35 Wait just a moment—I have an idea! LAURA. What is it now? [AMANDA produces two powder puffs which she wraps in handerchiefs and stuffs in LAURA's bosom.] 40 LAURA. Mother, what are you doing? AMANDA. They call them "Gay Deceivers"! LAURA. I won't wear them! AMANDA. You will! LAURA. Why should I? 45 AMANDA. Because, to be painfully honest, your chest is flat. LAURA. You make it seem like we were setting a trap. AMANDA. All pretty girls are a trap, a pretty 50 trap, and men expect them to be. [LEGEND: "A PRETTY TRAP".] Now look at yourself, young lady. This is the prettiest you will ever be! I've got to fix myself now! You're going to be surprised by your mother's appearance! [She 55 crosses through portieres, humming gaily. LAURA moves slowly to the long mirror and stares solemnly at herself. A wind blows the white curtains inward in a slow, graceful motion and with a faint, sorrowful sighing.] 60 AMANDA [Off stage]. It isn't dark enough yet. [She turns slowly before the mirror with a troubled look.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "THIS IS MY SISTER: CELEBRATE HER WITH STRINGS!" MUSIC.] 65 AMANDA [Laughing, off]. I'm going to show you something. I'm going to make a spectac- ular appearance! LAURA. What is it, Mother? AMANDA. Possess your soul in patience— 70 you will see! Something I've resurrected from that old trunk! Styles haven't changed so terribly much after all. . . . [She parts the por- tieres.] Now just look at your mother! [She wears a girlish frock of yellowed voile with a blue 75 silk sash. She carries a bunch of jonquils—the legend of her youth is nearly revived. Feverishly.] This is the dress in which I led the cotillion. Won the cakewalk twice at Sunset Hill, wore one spring to the Governor's ball in Jackson! 80 See how I sashayed around the ballroom, Laura? [She raises her skirt and does a mincing

770 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VI step around the room ] I wore it on Sundays for my gentlemen callers! I had it on the day I met your father—I had malaria fever all that spring The change of climate from East Tennessee to 5 the Delta—weakened resistance—I had a little temperature all the time—not enough to be serious—just enough to make me restless and giddy!—Invitations poured in—parties all over the Delta!—"Stay in bed," said Mother, 10 "you have fever!"—but I just wouldn't.—I took quinine but kept on going, going!— Evenings, dances!—Afternoons, long, long rides! Picnics—lovely!—So lovely, that country in May.—All lacy with dogwood, literally 15 flooded with jonquils!—That was the spring I had the craze for jonquils. Jonquils became an absolute obsession. Mother said "Honey, there's no more room for jonquils." And still I kept on bringing in more jonquils. When- 20 ever, wherever I saw them, I'd say, "Stop! Stop! I see jonquils!" I made the young men help me gather the jonquils! It was a joke, Amanda and her jonquils! Finally there were no more vases to hold them, every available 25 space was filled with jonquils. No vases to hold them? All right, I'll hold them myself! And then I—[She stops in front of the picture MUSIC] met your father! Malaria fever and jonquils and then—this—boy.... [She switches on the rose- 30 colored lamp ] I hope they get here before it starts to rain. [She crosses upstage and places the jonquils in bowl on table ] I gave your brother a little extra change so he and Mr. O'Connor could take the service car home. 35 LAURA [With altered look]. What did you say his name was? AMANDA O'Connor. LAURA. What is his first name? AMANDA. I don't remember. Oh, yes, I do. 40 It was—Jim! [LAURA sways slightly and catches hold of a chair.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "NOT JIM!"] LAURA [Faintly]. Not—Jim! 45 AMANDA. Yes, that was it, it was Jim! I've never known a Jim that wasn't nice! [MUSIC: OMINOUS.] LAURA. Are you sure his name is Jim O'Connor? AMANDA. Yes Why? LAURA. Is he the one that Tom used to know in high school? AMANDA. He didn't say so I think he just got to know him at the warehouse. LAURA. There was a Jim O'Connor we both 55 knew in high school—[Then, with effort ] If that is the one that Tom is bringing to dinner— you'll have to excuse me, I won't come to the table. AMANDA. What sort of nonsense is this? 60 LAURA. You asked me once if I'd ever liked a boy. Don't you remember I showed you this boy's picture? AMANDA. You mean the boy you showed me in the year book? 65 LAURA. Yes, that boy AMANDA. Laura, Laura, were you in love with that boy? LAURA. I don't know, Mother. All I know is I couldn't sit at the table if it was him! 70 AMANDA. It won't be him! It isn't the least bit likely. But whether it is or not, you will come to the table You will not be excused. LAURA. I'll have to be, Mother. AMANDA. I don't intend to humor your 75 silliness, Laura. I've had too much from you and your brother, both! So just sit down and compose yourself till they come. Tom has forgotten his key so you'll have to let them in, when they arrive. 80 LAURA [Panicky]. Oh, Mother—you answer the door! AMANDA [Lightly]. I'll be in the kitchen— busy! LAURA. Oh, Mother, please answer the door, 85 don't make me do it! AMANDA [Crossing into kitchenette]. I've got to fix the dressing for the salmon. Fuss, fuss— silliness!—over a gentleman caller! [Door swings shut. LAURA is left alone.] 90 [LEGEND: "TERROR!"] [She utters a low moan and turns off the lamp— sits stiffly on the edge of the sofa, knotting her fingers together.]

The Terror of the Door

Laura realizes the 'gentleman caller' is likely Jim O'Connor, the boy she was infatuated with in high school.
Overcome by anxiety, Laura begs her mother to be excused from dinner, but Amanda dismisses her fears as nonsense.
Amanda forces Laura to answer the door, viewing her daughter's paralyzing social phobia as a 'fantastic whim.'
The tension peaks as Laura uses the music of the Victrola to find the strength to physically open the door.
The meeting occurs, revealing the stark contrast between Jim's hearty confidence and Laura's trembling, physical coldness.

Laura, sweetheart! The door! [LAURA stares at it without moving.]

770 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VI step around the room ] I wore it on Sundays for my gentlemen callers! I had it on the day I met your father—I had malaria fever all that spring The change of climate from East Tennessee to 5 the Delta—weakened resistance—I had a little temperature all the time—not enough to be serious—just enough to make me restless and giddy!—Invitations poured in—parties all over the Delta!—"Stay in bed," said Mother, 10 "you have fever!"—but I just wouldn't.—I took quinine but kept on going, going!— Evenings, dances!—Afternoons, long, long rides! Picnics—lovely!—So lovely, that country in May.—All lacy with dogwood, literally 15 flooded with jonquils!—That was the spring I had the craze for jonquils. Jonquils became an absolute obsession. Mother said "Honey, there's no more room for jonquils." And still I kept on bringing in more jonquils. When- 20 ever, wherever I saw them, I'd say, "Stop! Stop! I see jonquils!" I made the young men help me gather the jonquils! It was a joke, Amanda and her jonquils! Finally there were no more vases to hold them, every available 25 space was filled with jonquils. No vases to hold them? All right, I'll hold them myself! And then I—[She stops in front of the picture MUSIC] met your father! Malaria fever and jonquils and then—this—boy.... [She switches on the rose- 30 colored lamp ] I hope they get here before it starts to rain. [She crosses upstage and places the jonquils in bowl on table ] I gave your brother a little extra change so he and Mr. O'Connor could take the service car home. 35 LAURA [With altered look]. What did you say his name was? AMANDA O'Connor. LAURA. What is his first name? AMANDA. I don't remember. Oh, yes, I do. 40 It was—Jim! [LAURA sways slightly and catches hold of a chair.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "NOT JIM!"] LAURA [Faintly]. Not—Jim! 45 AMANDA. Yes, that was it, it was Jim! I've never known a Jim that wasn't nice! [MUSIC: OMINOUS.] LAURA. Are you sure his name is Jim O'Connor? AMANDA. Yes Why? LAURA. Is he the one that Tom used to know in high school? AMANDA. He didn't say so I think he just got to know him at the warehouse. LAURA. There was a Jim O'Connor we both 55 knew in high school—[Then, with effort ] If that is the one that Tom is bringing to dinner— you'll have to excuse me, I won't come to the table. AMANDA. What sort of nonsense is this? 60 LAURA. You asked me once if I'd ever liked a boy. Don't you remember I showed you this boy's picture? AMANDA. You mean the boy you showed me in the year book? 65 LAURA. Yes, that boy AMANDA. Laura, Laura, were you in love with that boy? LAURA. I don't know, Mother. All I know is I couldn't sit at the table if it was him! 70 AMANDA. It won't be him! It isn't the least bit likely. But whether it is or not, you will come to the table You will not be excused. LAURA. I'll have to be, Mother. AMANDA. I don't intend to humor your 75 silliness, Laura. I've had too much from you and your brother, both! So just sit down and compose yourself till they come. Tom has forgotten his key so you'll have to let them in, when they arrive. 80 LAURA [Panicky]. Oh, Mother—you answer the door! AMANDA [Lightly]. I'll be in the kitchen— busy! LAURA. Oh, Mother, please answer the door, 85 don't make me do it! AMANDA [Crossing into kitchenette]. I've got to fix the dressing for the salmon. Fuss, fuss— silliness!—over a gentleman caller! [Door swings shut. LAURA is left alone.] 90 [LEGEND: "TERROR!"] [She utters a low moan and turns off the lamp— sits stiffly on the edge of the sofa, knotting her fingers together.]

Scene VI | The Glass Menagerie [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "THE OPENING OF A DOOR!"] [Tom and JIM appear on the fire-escape steps and climb to landing. Hearing their approach, 5 LAURA rises with a panicky gesture. She retreats to the portieres. The doorbell. LAURA catches her breath and touches her throat. Low drums.] AMANDA [Calling]. Laura, sweetheart! The door! [LAURA stares at it without moving.] 10 JIM. I think we just beat the rain. TOM. Uh-huh. [He rings again, nervously. JIM whistles and fishes for a cigarette.] AMANDA [Very, very gaily]. Laura, that is your brother and Mr. O'Connor! Will you let 15 them in, darling? [LAURA crosses toward kitchenette door.] LAURA [Breathlessly]. Mother-you go to the door! [AMANDA steps out of kitchenette and stares 20 furiously at LAURA. She points imperiously at the door.] LAURA. Please, please! AMANDA [In a fierce whisper]. What is the matter with you, you silly thing? 25 LAURA [Desperately]. Please, you answer it, please! AMANDA. I told you I wasn't going to humor you, Laura. Why have you chosen this moment to lose your mind? 30 LAURA. Please, please, please, you go! AMANDA. You'll have to go to the door be- cause I can't! LAURA [Despairingly]. I can't either! AMANDA. Why? 35 LAURA. I'm sick! AMANDA. I'm sick, too-of your nonsense! Why can't you and your brother be normal people? Fantastic whims and behavior! [TOM gives a long ring.] Preposterous goings on! Can 40 you give me one reason-[Calls out lyrically.] Coming! Just one second! -why you should be afraid to open a door? Now you answer it, Laura! LAURA. Oh, oh, oh. [She returns through the portieres. Darts to the victrola and winds it 45 frantically and turns it on.] AMANDA. Laura Wingfield, you march right to that door! LAURA. Yes-yes, Mother! [A faraway, scratchy rendition of "Dardanella" 50 softens the air and gives her strength to move through it. She slips to the door and draws it cautiously open. TOM enters with the caller, JIM O'CONNOR.] TOM. Laura, this is Jim. Jim, this is my sister, 55 Laura. JIM [Stepping inside]. I didn't know that Shakespeare had a sister! LAURA [Retreating stiff and trembling from the door]. How-how do you do? 60 JIM [Heartily extending his hand]. Okay! [LAURA touches it hesitantly with hers.] Your hand's cold, Laura! LAURA. Yes, well-I've been playing the victrola. 65 JIM. Must have been playing classical music on it! You ought to play a little hot swing music to warm you up! LAURA. Excuse me-I haven't finished play- ing the victrola. [She turns awkwardly and 70 hurries into the front room. She pauses a second by the victrola Then catches her breath and darts through the portieres like a frightened deer.] JIM [Grinning]. What was the matter? TOM. Oh-with Laura? Laura is-terribly 75 shy. JIM. Shy, huh? It's unusual to meet a shy girl nowadays. I don't believe you ever mentioned you had a sister. TOM. Well, now you know. I have one. Here 80 is the Post Dispatch. You want a piece of it? JIM. Uh-huh. TOM. What piece? The comics? JIM. Sports! [Glances at it.] Ole Dizzy Dean is on his bad behavior 85 TOM [Disinterest]. Yeah? [Lights cigarette and crosses back to fire-escape door.] "Opening of a door" see poem by Emily Dickinson "Dardanella" like Laura's other old records. a dance tune from about the period of her parents' courtship Dean famous pitcher for the St Louis Cardinals

The Urge to Move

Laura flees the room in a panic of shyness when confronted by Jim's outgoing personality.
Jim advocates for self-improvement through public speaking, claiming social poise is the key to executive success.
Tom reveals his deep dissatisfaction with his stagnant life at the warehouse and his disdain for Jim's conventional ambitions.
Tom critiques the passive nature of American life, where people watch movies instead of seeking their own adventures.
Tom hints at a radical departure, suggesting he is ready to abandon his responsibilities for a life of real action.
The tension between Jim's desire for corporate climbing and Tom's desire for total escape highlights their differing worldviews.

I'm tired of the movies and I am about to move!

Scene VI | The Glass Menagerie [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "THE OPENING OF A DOOR!"] [Tom and JIM appear on the fire-escape steps and climb to landing. Hearing their approach, 5 LAURA rises with a panicky gesture. She retreats to the portieres. The doorbell. LAURA catches her breath and touches her throat. Low drums.] AMANDA [Calling]. Laura, sweetheart! The door! [LAURA stares at it without moving.] 10 JIM. I think we just beat the rain. TOM. Uh-huh. [He rings again, nervously. JIM whistles and fishes for a cigarette.] AMANDA [Very, very gaily]. Laura, that is your brother and Mr. O'Connor! Will you let 15 them in, darling? [LAURA crosses toward kitchenette door.] LAURA [Breathlessly]. Mother-you go to the door! [AMANDA steps out of kitchenette and stares 20 furiously at LAURA. She points imperiously at the door.] LAURA. Please, please! AMANDA [In a fierce whisper]. What is the matter with you, you silly thing? 25 LAURA [Desperately]. Please, you answer it, please! AMANDA. I told you I wasn't going to humor you, Laura. Why have you chosen this moment to lose your mind? 30 LAURA. Please, please, please, you go! AMANDA. You'll have to go to the door be- cause I can't! LAURA [Despairingly]. I can't either! AMANDA. Why? 35 LAURA. I'm sick! AMANDA. I'm sick, too-of your nonsense! Why can't you and your brother be normal people? Fantastic whims and behavior! [TOM gives a long ring.] Preposterous goings on! Can 40 you give me one reason-[Calls out lyrically.] Coming! Just one second! -why you should be afraid to open a door? Now you answer it, Laura! LAURA. Oh, oh, oh. [She returns through the portieres. Darts to the victrola and winds it 45 frantically and turns it on.] AMANDA. Laura Wingfield, you march right to that door! LAURA. Yes-yes, Mother! [A faraway, scratchy rendition of "Dardanella" 50 softens the air and gives her strength to move through it. She slips to the door and draws it cautiously open. TOM enters with the caller, JIM O'CONNOR.] TOM. Laura, this is Jim. Jim, this is my sister, 55 Laura. JIM [Stepping inside]. I didn't know that Shakespeare had a sister! LAURA [Retreating stiff and trembling from the door]. How-how do you do? 60 JIM [Heartily extending his hand]. Okay! [LAURA touches it hesitantly with hers.] Your hand's cold, Laura! LAURA. Yes, well-I've been playing the victrola. 65 JIM. Must have been playing classical music on it! You ought to play a little hot swing music to warm you up! LAURA. Excuse me-I haven't finished play- ing the victrola. [She turns awkwardly and 70 hurries into the front room. She pauses a second by the victrola Then catches her breath and darts through the portieres like a frightened deer.] JIM [Grinning]. What was the matter? TOM. Oh-with Laura? Laura is-terribly 75 shy. JIM. Shy, huh? It's unusual to meet a shy girl nowadays. I don't believe you ever mentioned you had a sister. TOM. Well, now you know. I have one. Here 80 is the Post Dispatch. You want a piece of it? JIM. Uh-huh. TOM. What piece? The comics? JIM. Sports! [Glances at it.] Ole Dizzy Dean is on his bad behavior 85 TOM [Disinterest]. Yeah? [Lights cigarette and crosses back to fire-escape door.] "Opening of a door" see poem by Emily Dickinson "Dardanella" like Laura's other old records. a dance tune from about the period of her parents' courtship Dean famous pitcher for the St Louis Cardinals

772 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VI JIM. Where are you going? TOM. I'm going out on the terrace. JIM [Goes after him]. You know, Shakespeare —I'm going to sell you a bill of goods! TOM. What goods? JIM. A course I'm taking. TOM. Huh? JIM. In public speaking! You and me, we're not the warehouse type. TOM. Thanks—that's good news. But what has public speaking got to do with it? JIM. It fits you for—executive positions! TOM. Awww. JIM. I tell you it's done a helluva lot for me. [IMAGE: EXECUTIVE AT DESK.] TOM. In what respect? JIM. In every! Ask yourself what is the dif- ference between you an' me and men in the office down front? Brains?—No!—Ability?— No! Then what? Just one little thing— TOM. What is that one little thing? JIM. Primarily it amounts to—social poise! Being able to square up to people and hold your own on any social level! AMANDA [Off stage]. Tom? TOM. Yes, Mother? AMANDA. Is that you and Mr. O'Connor? TOM. Yes, Mother. AMANDA. Well, you just make yourselves comfortable in there. TOM. Yes, Mother. AMANDA. Ask Mr. O'Conner if he would like to wash his hands. JIM. Aw, no—no—thank you—I took care of that at the warehouse. Tom— TOM. Yes? JIM. Mr. Mendoza was speaking to me about you. TOM. Favorably? JIM. What do you think? TOM. Well— JIM. You're going to be out of a job if you don't wake up. TOM. I am waking up— JIM. You show no signs. TOM. The signs are interior. [IMAGE ON SCREEN: THE SAILING VESSEL WITH JOLLY ROGER AGAIN.] TOM. I'm planning to change. [He leans over the rail speaking with quiet exhilaration. The incandescent marquees and signs of the first-run movie houses light his face from across the alley. He looks like a voyager.] I'm right at the point of committing myself to a future that doesn't include the warehouse and Mr. Mendoza or even a night-school course in public speaking. JIM. What are you gassing about? TOM. I'm tired of the movies. JIM. Movies! TOM. Yes, movies! Look at them—[A wave toward the marvels of Grand Avenue.] All of those glamorous people—having adventures— hogging it all, gobbling the whole thing up! You know what happens? People go to the movies instead of moving! Hollywood charac- ters are supposed to have all the adventures for everybody in America, while everybody in America sits in a dark room and watches them have them! Yes, until there's a war. That's when adventure becomes available to the masses! Everyone's dish, not only Gable's! Then the people in the dark room come out of the dark room to have some adventures them- selves—Goody, goody!—It's our turn now, to go to the South Sea Island—to make a safari— to be exotic, far-off!—but I'm not patient. I don't want to wait till then. I'm tired of the movies and I am about to move! JIM [Incredulously]. Move? TOM. Yes. JIM. When? TOM. Soon! JIM. Where? Where? [Theme three music seems to answer the ques- tion, while TOM thinks it over. He searches among his pockets.] TOM. I'm starting to boil inside. I know I seem dreamy, but inside—well, I'm boiling!— Whenever I pick up a shoe, I shudder a little thinking how short life is and what I am doing! —Whatever that means. I know it doesn't mean shoes—except as something to wear on a traveler's feet! [Finds paper.] Look— JIM. What? TOM. I'm a member. JIM [Reading]. The Union of Merchant Seamen. TOM. I paid my dues this month, instead of

Escape Plans and Southern Charm

Tom reveals his internal turmoil and existential dread, feeling that his life is being wasted in the shoe warehouse.
Having secretly joined the Union of Merchant Seamen, Tom plans to abandon his responsibilities and follow his father's path of desertion.
Tom admits to using the household's light bill money to pay his union dues, signaling his imminent departure.
Amanda makes a dramatic entrance, donning an old dress and adopting an exaggerated persona of Southern hospitality to impress Jim.
The interaction highlights the disconnect between Tom's desperate urge to flee and Amanda's fixation on social performance and the past.
Amanda redirects the focus to Laura, positioning her as the one in charge of the evening's meal to facilitate the matchmaking attempt.

I'm like my father. The bastard son of a bastard! See how he grins? And he's been absent going on sixteen years!

772 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VI JIM. Where are you going? TOM. I'm going out on the terrace. JIM [Goes after him]. You know, Shakespeare —I'm going to sell you a bill of goods! TOM. What goods? JIM. A course I'm taking. TOM. Huh? JIM. In public speaking! You and me, we're not the warehouse type. TOM. Thanks—that's good news. But what has public speaking got to do with it? JIM. It fits you for—executive positions! TOM. Awww. JIM. I tell you it's done a helluva lot for me. [IMAGE: EXECUTIVE AT DESK.] TOM. In what respect? JIM. In every! Ask yourself what is the dif- ference between you an' me and men in the office down front? Brains?—No!—Ability?— No! Then what? Just one little thing— TOM. What is that one little thing? JIM. Primarily it amounts to—social poise! Being able to square up to people and hold your own on any social level! AMANDA [Off stage]. Tom? TOM. Yes, Mother? AMANDA. Is that you and Mr. O'Connor? TOM. Yes, Mother. AMANDA. Well, you just make yourselves comfortable in there. TOM. Yes, Mother. AMANDA. Ask Mr. O'Conner if he would like to wash his hands. JIM. Aw, no—no—thank you—I took care of that at the warehouse. Tom— TOM. Yes? JIM. Mr. Mendoza was speaking to me about you. TOM. Favorably? JIM. What do you think? TOM. Well— JIM. You're going to be out of a job if you don't wake up. TOM. I am waking up— JIM. You show no signs. TOM. The signs are interior. [IMAGE ON SCREEN: THE SAILING VESSEL WITH JOLLY ROGER AGAIN.] TOM. I'm planning to change. [He leans over the rail speaking with quiet exhilaration. The incandescent marquees and signs of the first-run movie houses light his face from across the alley. He looks like a voyager.] I'm right at the point of committing myself to a future that doesn't include the warehouse and Mr. Mendoza or even a night-school course in public speaking. JIM. What are you gassing about? TOM. I'm tired of the movies. JIM. Movies! TOM. Yes, movies! Look at them—[A wave toward the marvels of Grand Avenue.] All of those glamorous people—having adventures— hogging it all, gobbling the whole thing up! You know what happens? People go to the movies instead of moving! Hollywood charac- ters are supposed to have all the adventures for everybody in America, while everybody in America sits in a dark room and watches them have them! Yes, until there's a war. That's when adventure becomes available to the masses! Everyone's dish, not only Gable's! Then the people in the dark room come out of the dark room to have some adventures them- selves—Goody, goody!—It's our turn now, to go to the South Sea Island—to make a safari— to be exotic, far-off!—but I'm not patient. I don't want to wait till then. I'm tired of the movies and I am about to move! JIM [Incredulously]. Move? TOM. Yes. JIM. When? TOM. Soon! JIM. Where? Where? [Theme three music seems to answer the ques- tion, while TOM thinks it over. He searches among his pockets.] TOM. I'm starting to boil inside. I know I seem dreamy, but inside—well, I'm boiling!— Whenever I pick up a shoe, I shudder a little thinking how short life is and what I am doing! —Whatever that means. I know it doesn't mean shoes—except as something to wear on a traveler's feet! [Finds paper.] Look— JIM. What? TOM. I'm a member. JIM [Reading]. The Union of Merchant Seamen. TOM. I paid my dues this month, instead of

Scene VI | The Glass Menagerie the light bill. Jim. You will regret it when they turn the lights off. Tom. I won't be here. 5 Jim. How about your mother? Tom. I'm like my father. The bastard son of a bastard! See how he grins? And he's been absent going on sixteen years! Jim. You're just talking, you drip. How does 10 your mother feel about it? Tom. Shhh!—Here comes Mother! Mother is not acquainted with my plans! Amanda [Enters portieres]. Where are you all? 15 Tom. On the terrace, Mother. [They start inside. She advances to them. Tom is distinctly shocked at her appearance. Even Jim blinks a little. He is making his first contact with girlish Southern vivacity and in 20 spite of the night-school course in public speaking is somewhat thrown off the beam by the unexpected outlay of social charm. Certain responses are attempted by Jim but are swept aside by Amanda's gay laughter and chatter. Tom is 25 embarrassed but after the first shock Jim reacts very warmly. Grins and chuckles, is altogether won over.] [Image: Amanda as a girl.] Amanda [Coyly smiling, shaking her girlish 30 ringlets]. Well, well, well, so this is Mr O'Connor. Introductions entirely unnecessary. I've heard so much about you from my boy I finally said to him, Tom—good gracious!—why don't you bring this paragon to supper? 35 I'd like to meet this nice young man at the warehouse!—Instead of just hearing him sing your praises so much! I don't know why my son is so stand-offish—that's not Southern behavior! 40 Let's sit down and—I think we could stand a little more air in here! Tom, leave the door open. I felt a nice fresh breeze a moment ago. Where has it gone to? Mmm, so warm already! And not quite 45 summer, even. We're going to burn up when summer really gets started. However, we're having—we're having a very light supper. I think light things are better fo' this time of year. The same as light clothes are. Light clothes an' light food are what warm 50 weather calls fo'. You know our blood gets so thick during th' winter—it takes a while fo' us to adjust ou'selves!—when the season changes . . . It's come so quick this year. I wasn't pre- 55 pared. All of a sudden—heavens! Already summer!—I ran to the trunk an' pulled out this light dress—Terribly old! Historical almost! But feels so good—so good an' co-ol, y'know. . . 60 Tom. Mother— Amanda. Yes, honey? Tom. How about—supper? Amanda. Honey, you go ask Sister if supper is ready! You know that Sister is in full charge 65 of supper! Tell her you hungry boys are waiting for it. [To Jim.] Have you met Laura? Jim. She— Amanda. Let you in? Oh, good, you've met 70 already! It's rare for a girl as sweet an' pretty as Laura to be domestic! But Laura is, thank heavens, not only pretty but also very domestic. I'm not at all. I never was a bit. I never could make a thing but angel-food cake. 75 Well, in the South we had so many servants. Gone, gone, gone. All vestige of gracious living! Gone completely! I wasn't prepared for what the future brought me. All of my gentlemen callers were sons of planters and so of 80 course I assumed that I would be married to one and raise my family on a large piece of land with plenty of servants. But man proposes—and woman accepts° the proposal!—To vary that old, old saying a little bit—I married no 85 planter! I married a man who worked for the telephone company!—That gallantly smiling gentleman over there! [Points to the picture.] A telephone man who—fell in love with long-distance!—Now he travels and I don't even 90 know where!—But what am I going on for about my tribulations? Tell me yours—I hope you don't have any! Tom? Tom [Returning]. Yes, Mother? Amanda. Is supper nearly ready? 95 and woman accepts her version of the proverb. 'Man proposes. God disposes'' (that is. "decides")

The Fading Gracious Living

Amanda reminisces about her Southern upbringing, contrasting her expectations of marrying a wealthy planter with the reality of her husband, a telephone man who 'fell in love with long-distance.'
The tension of the 'gentleman caller' dinner peaks as Laura, overwhelmed by anxiety and physical illness, nearly faints and is unable to sit at the table.
Amanda attempts to maintain a facade of social grace and domestic normalcy despite Laura's visible distress and the family's clear poverty.
A sudden summer storm and a subsequent power failure plunge the apartment into darkness, symbolizing the fragility of the family's situation.
The scene shifts to highlight Laura's 'unearthly prettiness' under the soft light of a new lamp, emphasizing her delicate and detached nature from the real world.

A telephone man who—fell in love with long-distance!—Now he travels and I don't even know where!

Scene VI | The Glass Menagerie the light bill. Jim. You will regret it when they turn the lights off. Tom. I won't be here. 5 Jim. How about your mother? Tom. I'm like my father. The bastard son of a bastard! See how he grins? And he's been absent going on sixteen years! Jim. You're just talking, you drip. How does 10 your mother feel about it? Tom. Shhh!—Here comes Mother! Mother is not acquainted with my plans! Amanda [Enters portieres]. Where are you all? 15 Tom. On the terrace, Mother. [They start inside. She advances to them. Tom is distinctly shocked at her appearance. Even Jim blinks a little. He is making his first contact with girlish Southern vivacity and in 20 spite of the night-school course in public speaking is somewhat thrown off the beam by the unexpected outlay of social charm. Certain responses are attempted by Jim but are swept aside by Amanda's gay laughter and chatter. Tom is 25 embarrassed but after the first shock Jim reacts very warmly. Grins and chuckles, is altogether won over.] [Image: Amanda as a girl.] Amanda [Coyly smiling, shaking her girlish 30 ringlets]. Well, well, well, so this is Mr O'Connor. Introductions entirely unnecessary. I've heard so much about you from my boy I finally said to him, Tom—good gracious!—why don't you bring this paragon to supper? 35 I'd like to meet this nice young man at the warehouse!—Instead of just hearing him sing your praises so much! I don't know why my son is so stand-offish—that's not Southern behavior! 40 Let's sit down and—I think we could stand a little more air in here! Tom, leave the door open. I felt a nice fresh breeze a moment ago. Where has it gone to? Mmm, so warm already! And not quite 45 summer, even. We're going to burn up when summer really gets started. However, we're having—we're having a very light supper. I think light things are better fo' this time of year. The same as light clothes are. Light clothes an' light food are what warm 50 weather calls fo'. You know our blood gets so thick during th' winter—it takes a while fo' us to adjust ou'selves!—when the season changes . . . It's come so quick this year. I wasn't pre- 55 pared. All of a sudden—heavens! Already summer!—I ran to the trunk an' pulled out this light dress—Terribly old! Historical almost! But feels so good—so good an' co-ol, y'know. . . 60 Tom. Mother— Amanda. Yes, honey? Tom. How about—supper? Amanda. Honey, you go ask Sister if supper is ready! You know that Sister is in full charge 65 of supper! Tell her you hungry boys are waiting for it. [To Jim.] Have you met Laura? Jim. She— Amanda. Let you in? Oh, good, you've met 70 already! It's rare for a girl as sweet an' pretty as Laura to be domestic! But Laura is, thank heavens, not only pretty but also very domestic. I'm not at all. I never was a bit. I never could make a thing but angel-food cake. 75 Well, in the South we had so many servants. Gone, gone, gone. All vestige of gracious living! Gone completely! I wasn't prepared for what the future brought me. All of my gentlemen callers were sons of planters and so of 80 course I assumed that I would be married to one and raise my family on a large piece of land with plenty of servants. But man proposes—and woman accepts° the proposal!—To vary that old, old saying a little bit—I married no 85 planter! I married a man who worked for the telephone company!—That gallantly smiling gentleman over there! [Points to the picture.] A telephone man who—fell in love with long-distance!—Now he travels and I don't even 90 know where!—But what am I going on for about my tribulations? Tell me yours—I hope you don't have any! Tom? Tom [Returning]. Yes, Mother? Amanda. Is supper nearly ready? 95 and woman accepts her version of the proverb. 'Man proposes. God disposes'' (that is. "decides")

774 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII TOM. It looks to me like supper is on the table. AMANDA. Let me look- [She rises prettily and looks through portieres.] Oh, lovely!- But where is Sister? TOM. Laura is not feeling well and she says that she thinks she'd better not come to the table. AMANDA. What?- Nonsense!- Laura? Oh, Laura! LAURA. [Off stage, faintly.] Yes, Mother. AMANDA. You really must come to the table. We won't be seated until you come to the table! Come in, Mr. O'Connor. You sit over there, and I'll- Laura? Laura Wingfield! You're keeping us waiting, honey! We can't say grace until you come to the table! [The back door is pushed weakly open and LAURA comes in She is obviously quite faint, her lips trembling, her eyes wide and staring. She moves unsteadily toward the table.] [LEGEND: "TERROR!"] [Outside a summer storm is coming abruptly. The white curtains billow inward at the windows and there is a sorrowful murmur and deep blue dusk. LAURA suddenly stumbles- she catches at a chair with a faint moan.] TOM. Laura! AMANDA. Laura! [There is a clap of thunder] [LEGEND: "AH!"] [Despairingly] Why, Laura, you are sick, darling! Tom, help your sister into the living room, dear! Sit in the living room, Laura- rest on the sofa. Well! [To the gentleman caller] Standing over the hot stove made her ill!- I told her that it was just too warm this evening, but- [TOM comes back in LAURA is on the sofa.] Is Laura all right now? TOM. Yes. AMANDA. What is that? Rain? A nice cool rain has come up! [She gives the gentleman caller a frightened look] I think we may- have grace- now . . . [TOM looks at her stupidly] Tom, honey- you say grace! TOM Oh . . . "For these and all thy mercies-" [They bow their heads, AMANDA stealing a nervous glance at JIM. In the living room LAURA, stretched on the sofa, clenches her hand to her lips, to hold back a shuddering sob.] "God's Holy Name be praised"- The Scene Dims Out SCENE VII A Souvenir. Half an hour later. Dinner is just being finished in the upstage area which is concealed by the drawn portieres. As the curtain rises LAURA is still huddled upon the sofa, her feet drawn under her, her head resting on a pale blue pillow, her eyes wide and mysteriously watchful. The new floor lamp with its shade of rose-colored silk gives a soft, becoming light to her face, bringing out the fragile, unearthly prettiness which usually escapes attention. There is a steady murmur of rain, but it is slackening and stops soon after the scene begins; the air outside becomes pale and luminous as the moon breaks out. A moment after the curtain rises, the lights in both rooms flicker and go out. JIM. Hey, there, Mr. Light Bulb! [AMANDA laughs nervously.] [LEGEND: "SUSPENSION OF A PUBLIC SERVICE."] AMANDA. Where was Moses when the lights went out? Ha-ha. Do you know the answer to that one, Mr. O'Connor? JIM. No, Ma'am, what's the answer? AMANDA. In the dark! [JIM laughs appreciatively.] Everybody sit still. I'll light the candles. Isn't it lucky we have them on the table? Where's a match? Which of you gentlemen can provide a match? JIM. Here. AMANDA. Thank you, sir. JIM. Not at all, Ma'am! AMANDA. I guess the fuse has burnt out. Mr. O'Connor, can you tell a burnt-out fuse? I know I can't and Tom is a total loss when it comes to mechanics. [Sound: Getting up. Voices recede a little to kitchenette]

Candlelight and Negligence

The Wingfield apartment is plunged into darkness after the electricity is cut off during the gentleman caller's visit.
Amanda discovers that Tom neglected to pay the light bill, confirming her frustrations regarding his irresponsibility.
Amanda uses the power outage as a social opportunity, framing the lack of light as a romantic, 'nineteenth-century' atmosphere.
Jim O'Connor displays a charming, easygoing nature, jokingly defending Tom and humoring Amanda's flirtatious hospitality.
Amanda orchestrates a private moment between Jim and Laura, sending him into the parlor with a candelabrum and wine.
The scene shifts to a high-stakes emotional climax for Laura, who is paralyzed by shyness as she is left alone with Jim.

We’ll just have to spend the remainder of the evening in the nineteenth century, before Mr. Edison made the Mazda lamp!

774 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII TOM. It looks to me like supper is on the table. AMANDA. Let me look- [She rises prettily and looks through portieres.] Oh, lovely!- But where is Sister? TOM. Laura is not feeling well and she says that she thinks she'd better not come to the table. AMANDA. What?- Nonsense!- Laura? Oh, Laura! LAURA. [Off stage, faintly.] Yes, Mother. AMANDA. You really must come to the table. We won't be seated until you come to the table! Come in, Mr. O'Connor. You sit over there, and I'll- Laura? Laura Wingfield! You're keeping us waiting, honey! We can't say grace until you come to the table! [The back door is pushed weakly open and LAURA comes in She is obviously quite faint, her lips trembling, her eyes wide and staring. She moves unsteadily toward the table.] [LEGEND: "TERROR!"] [Outside a summer storm is coming abruptly. The white curtains billow inward at the windows and there is a sorrowful murmur and deep blue dusk. LAURA suddenly stumbles- she catches at a chair with a faint moan.] TOM. Laura! AMANDA. Laura! [There is a clap of thunder] [LEGEND: "AH!"] [Despairingly] Why, Laura, you are sick, darling! Tom, help your sister into the living room, dear! Sit in the living room, Laura- rest on the sofa. Well! [To the gentleman caller] Standing over the hot stove made her ill!- I told her that it was just too warm this evening, but- [TOM comes back in LAURA is on the sofa.] Is Laura all right now? TOM. Yes. AMANDA. What is that? Rain? A nice cool rain has come up! [She gives the gentleman caller a frightened look] I think we may- have grace- now . . . [TOM looks at her stupidly] Tom, honey- you say grace! TOM Oh . . . "For these and all thy mercies-" [They bow their heads, AMANDA stealing a nervous glance at JIM. In the living room LAURA, stretched on the sofa, clenches her hand to her lips, to hold back a shuddering sob.] "God's Holy Name be praised"- The Scene Dims Out SCENE VII A Souvenir. Half an hour later. Dinner is just being finished in the upstage area which is concealed by the drawn portieres. As the curtain rises LAURA is still huddled upon the sofa, her feet drawn under her, her head resting on a pale blue pillow, her eyes wide and mysteriously watchful. The new floor lamp with its shade of rose-colored silk gives a soft, becoming light to her face, bringing out the fragile, unearthly prettiness which usually escapes attention. There is a steady murmur of rain, but it is slackening and stops soon after the scene begins; the air outside becomes pale and luminous as the moon breaks out. A moment after the curtain rises, the lights in both rooms flicker and go out. JIM. Hey, there, Mr. Light Bulb! [AMANDA laughs nervously.] [LEGEND: "SUSPENSION OF A PUBLIC SERVICE."] AMANDA. Where was Moses when the lights went out? Ha-ha. Do you know the answer to that one, Mr. O'Connor? JIM. No, Ma'am, what's the answer? AMANDA. In the dark! [JIM laughs appreciatively.] Everybody sit still. I'll light the candles. Isn't it lucky we have them on the table? Where's a match? Which of you gentlemen can provide a match? JIM. Here. AMANDA. Thank you, sir. JIM. Not at all, Ma'am! AMANDA. I guess the fuse has burnt out. Mr. O'Connor, can you tell a burnt-out fuse? I know I can't and Tom is a total loss when it comes to mechanics. [Sound: Getting up. Voices recede a little to kitchenette]

Scene VII | The Glass Menagerie Oh, be careful you don’t bump into something. We don’t want our gentleman caller to break his neck. Now wouldn’t that be a fine howdy-do? JIM. Ha-ha! Where is the fuse-box? AMANDA. Right here next to the stove. Can you see anything? JIM. Just a minute. AMANDA. Isn’t electricity a mysterious thing? Wasn’t it Benjamin Franklin who tied a key to a kite? We live in such a mysterious universe, don’t we? Some people say that science clears up all the mysteries for us. In my opinion it only creates more! Have you found it yet? JIM. No, Ma’am. All these fuses look okay to me. AMANDA. Tom! TOM. Yes, Mother? AMANDA. That light bill I gave you several days ago. The one I told you we got the notices about? [LEGEND: "HA!"] TOM. Oh. — Yeah. AMANDA. You didn’t neglect to pay it by any chance? TOM. Why, I— AMANDA. Didn’t! I might have known it! JIM. Shakespeare probably wrote a poem on that light bill, Mrs. Wingfield. AMANDA. I might have known better than to trust him with it! There’s such a high price for negligence in this world! JIM. Maybe the poem will win a ten-dollar prize. AMANDA. We’ll just have to spend the remainder of the evening in the nineteenth century, before Mr. Edison made the Mazda lamp! JIM. Candlelight is my favorite kind of light. AMANDA. That shows you’re romantic! But that’s no excuse for Tom. Well, we got through dinner. Very considerate of them to let us get through dinner before they plunged us into everlasting darkness, wasn’t it, Mr. O’Connor? JIM. Ha-ha! AMANDA. Tom, as a penalty for your carelessness you can help me with the dishes. JIM. Let me give you a hand. AMANDA. Indeed you will not! JIM. I ought to be good for something. AMANDA. Good for something? [Her tone is rhapsodic.] You? Why, Mr. O’Connor, nobody, nobody’s given me this much entertainment in years—as you have! JIM. Aw, now, Mrs. Wingfield! AMANDA. I’m not exaggerating, not one bit! But Sister is all by her lonesome. You go keep her company in the parlor! I’ll give you this lovely old candelabrum that used to be on the altar at the church of the Heavenly Rest. It was melted a little out of shape when the church burnt down. Lightning struck it one spring. Gypsy Jones was holding a revival at the time and he intimated that the church was destroyed because the Episcopalians gave card parties. JIM. Ha-ha. AMANDA. And how about you coaxing Sister to drink a little wine? I think it would be good for her! Can you carry both at once? JIM. Sure, I’m Superman! AMANDA. Now, Thomas, get into this apron! [The door of the kitchenette swings closed on AMANDA’S gay laughter; the flickering light approaches the portieres. LAURA sits up nervously as he enters. Her speech at first is low and breathless from the almost intolerable strain of being alone with a stranger ] [THE LEGEND: "I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU REMEMBER ME AT ALL!"] [In her first speeches in this scene, before JIM’S warmth overcomes her paralyzing shyness, LAURA’S voice is thin and breathless as though she has just run a steep flight of stairs. JIM’S attitude is gently humorous. In playing this scene it should be stressed that while the incident is apparently unimportant, it is to LAURA the climax of her secret life ] JIM. Hello, there, Laura. LAURA [Faintly] Hello. [She clears her throat.] JIM. How are you feeling now? Better? LAURA. Yes. Yes, thank you. JIM. This is for you. A little dandelion wine.

The Recognition of Blue Roses

Jim and Laura share an intimate moment by candlelight, drinking dandelion wine and sitting on the floor to bridge the social distance between them.
Jim displays his characteristic optimism and fascination with American progress, discussing the Hall of Science and the future of the country.
The conversation shifts to Laura's personal nature as Jim observes her shyness and labels her an 'old-fashioned' type of girl.
Laura reveals that she has remembered Jim vividly since high school, specifically recalling his talent for singing.
The climax of the scene occurs when Laura reminds Jim of the nickname he gave her in high school: 'Blue Roses.'
Jim finally connects Laura to his past, realizing she is the sister of his friend Tom, whom he used to call 'Shakespeare.'

But the name I started to call you—wasn't a name! And so I stopped myself before I said it.

Scene VII | The Glass Menagerie Oh, be careful you don’t bump into something. We don’t want our gentleman caller to break his neck. Now wouldn’t that be a fine howdy-do? JIM. Ha-ha! Where is the fuse-box? AMANDA. Right here next to the stove. Can you see anything? JIM. Just a minute. AMANDA. Isn’t electricity a mysterious thing? Wasn’t it Benjamin Franklin who tied a key to a kite? We live in such a mysterious universe, don’t we? Some people say that science clears up all the mysteries for us. In my opinion it only creates more! Have you found it yet? JIM. No, Ma’am. All these fuses look okay to me. AMANDA. Tom! TOM. Yes, Mother? AMANDA. That light bill I gave you several days ago. The one I told you we got the notices about? [LEGEND: "HA!"] TOM. Oh. — Yeah. AMANDA. You didn’t neglect to pay it by any chance? TOM. Why, I— AMANDA. Didn’t! I might have known it! JIM. Shakespeare probably wrote a poem on that light bill, Mrs. Wingfield. AMANDA. I might have known better than to trust him with it! There’s such a high price for negligence in this world! JIM. Maybe the poem will win a ten-dollar prize. AMANDA. We’ll just have to spend the remainder of the evening in the nineteenth century, before Mr. Edison made the Mazda lamp! JIM. Candlelight is my favorite kind of light. AMANDA. That shows you’re romantic! But that’s no excuse for Tom. Well, we got through dinner. Very considerate of them to let us get through dinner before they plunged us into everlasting darkness, wasn’t it, Mr. O’Connor? JIM. Ha-ha! AMANDA. Tom, as a penalty for your carelessness you can help me with the dishes. JIM. Let me give you a hand. AMANDA. Indeed you will not! JIM. I ought to be good for something. AMANDA. Good for something? [Her tone is rhapsodic.] You? Why, Mr. O’Connor, nobody, nobody’s given me this much entertainment in years—as you have! JIM. Aw, now, Mrs. Wingfield! AMANDA. I’m not exaggerating, not one bit! But Sister is all by her lonesome. You go keep her company in the parlor! I’ll give you this lovely old candelabrum that used to be on the altar at the church of the Heavenly Rest. It was melted a little out of shape when the church burnt down. Lightning struck it one spring. Gypsy Jones was holding a revival at the time and he intimated that the church was destroyed because the Episcopalians gave card parties. JIM. Ha-ha. AMANDA. And how about you coaxing Sister to drink a little wine? I think it would be good for her! Can you carry both at once? JIM. Sure, I’m Superman! AMANDA. Now, Thomas, get into this apron! [The door of the kitchenette swings closed on AMANDA’S gay laughter; the flickering light approaches the portieres. LAURA sits up nervously as he enters. Her speech at first is low and breathless from the almost intolerable strain of being alone with a stranger ] [THE LEGEND: "I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU REMEMBER ME AT ALL!"] [In her first speeches in this scene, before JIM’S warmth overcomes her paralyzing shyness, LAURA’S voice is thin and breathless as though she has just run a steep flight of stairs. JIM’S attitude is gently humorous. In playing this scene it should be stressed that while the incident is apparently unimportant, it is to LAURA the climax of her secret life ] JIM. Hello, there, Laura. LAURA [Faintly] Hello. [She clears her throat.] JIM. How are you feeling now? Better? LAURA. Yes. Yes, thank you. JIM. This is for you. A little dandelion wine.

776 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII [He extends it toward her with extravagant gallantry.] LAURA. Thank you. JIM. Drink it—but don't get drunk! [He 5 laughs heartily. LAURA takes the glass uncer- tainly; laughs shyly.] Where shall I set the candles? LAURA. Oh—oh, anywhere. JIM. How about here on the floor? Any 10 objections? LAURA. No. JIM. I'll spread a newspaper under to catch the drippings. I like to sit on the floor. Mind if I do? 15 LAURA. Oh, no. JIM. Give me a pillow? LAURA. What? JIM. A pillow! LAURA. Oh . . . [Hands him one quickly.] 20 JIM. How about you? Don't you like to sit on the floor? LAURA. Oh—yes. JIM. Why don't you then? LAURA. I—will. 25 JIM. Take a pillow! [LAURA does. Sits on the other side of the candelabrum. JIM crosses his legs and smiles engagingly at her.] I can't hardly see you sitting way over there. LAURA. I can—see you. 30 JIM. I know, but that's not fair, I'm in the lime-light. [LAURA moves her pillow closer.] Good! Now I can see you! Comfortable? LAURA. Yes. JIM. So am I. Comfortable as a cow! Will you 35 have some gum? LAURA. No, thank you. JIM. I think that I will indulge, with your per- mission. [Musingly unwraps it and holds it up.] Think of the fortune made by the guy that in- 40 vented the first piece of chewing gum. Amaz- ing, huh? The Wrigley Building is one of the sights of Chicago.—I saw it summer before last when I went up to the Century of Progress.° Did you take in the Century of Progress? 45 LAURA. No, I didn't. Century of Progress at Chicago. 1933–1934; among its wonders a demonstration of closed-circuit television JIM. Well, it was quite a wonderful exposi- tion. What impressed me most was the Hall of Science. Gives you an idea of what the future will be in America, even more wonder- ful than the present time is! [Pause. Smiling 50 at her.] Your brother tells me you're shy. Is that right, Laura? LAURA. I—don't know. JIM. I judge you to be an old-fashioned type of girl. Well, I think that's a pretty good type 55 to be. Hope you don't think I'm being too personal—do you? LAURA. [Hastily, out of embarrassment]. I be- lieve I will take a piece of gum, if you—don't mind. [Clearing her throat.] Mr. O'Connor, 60 have you—kept up with your singing? JIM. Singing? Me? LAURA. Yes. I remember what a beautiful voice you had. JIM. When did you hear me sing? 65 [VOICE OFF STAGE IN THE PAUSE.] VOICE [Off stage.] O blow, ye winds, heigh-ho, A-roving I will go! 70 I'm off to my love With a boxing glove— Ten thousand miles away! JIM. You say you've heard me sing? LAURA. Oh, yes! Yes, very often . . . I—don't 75 suppose—you remember me—at all? JIM. [Smiling doubtfully]. You know I have an idea I've seen you before. I had that idea as soon as you opened the door. It seemed almost like I was about to remember your 80 name. But the name I started to call you— wasn't a name! And so I stopped myself before I said it. LAURA. Wasn't it—Blue Roses? JIM. [Springs up. Grinning]. Blue Roses!—My 85 gosh, yes—Blue Roses! That's what I had on my tongue when you opened the door! Isn't it funny what tricks your memory plays? I didn't connect you with high school somehow or other. But that's where it was; it was high 90 school. I didn't even know you were Shake- speare's sister! Gosh, I'm sorry.

Scene VII | The Glass Menagerie LAURA. I didn't expect you to. You--barely knew me! JIM. But we did have a speaking acquaint- ance, huh? LAURA. Yes, we--spoke to each other. JIM. When did you recognize me? LAURA. Oh, right away! JIM. Soon as I came in the door? LAURA. When I heard your name I thought it was probably you. I knew that Tom used to know you a little in high school. So when you came in the door--Well, then I was--sure. JIM. Why didn't you say something, then? LAURA. [Breathlessly] I didn't know what to say, I was--too surprised! JIM. For goodness' sakes! You know, this sure is funny! LAURA. Yes! Yes, isn't it, though... JIM. Didn't we have a class in something together? LAURA. Yes, we did. JIM. What class was that? LAURA. It was--singing--Chorus! JIM. Aw! LAURA. I sat across the aisle from you in the Aud. JIM. Aw LAURA. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. JIM. Now I remember--you always came in late. LAURA. It was so hard for me, getting upstairs. I had that brace on my leg--it clumped so loud! JIM. I never heard any clumping. LAURA. [Wincing at the recollection] To me it sounded like--thunder! JIM. Well, well, well, I never even noticed. LAURA. And everybody was seated before I came in. I had to walk in front of all those people. My seat was in the back row. I had to go clumping all the way up the aisle with everyone watching! JIM. You shouldn't have been self-conscious. LAURA. I know, but I was. It was always such a relief when the singing started. JIM. Aw, yes, I've placed you now! I used to call you Blue Roses. How was it that I got started calling you that? LAURA. I was out of school a little while with pleurosis. When I came back you asked me what was the matter. I said I had pleurosis-- you thought I said Blue Roses. That's what you always called me after that! JIM. I hope you didn't mind. LAURA. Oh, no--I liked it. You see, I wasn't acquainted with many--people... JIM. As I remember you sort of stuck by yourself. LAURA. I--I--never have had much luck at --making friends. JIM. I don't see why you wouldn't. LAURA. Well, I--started out badly. JIM. You mean being-- LAURA. Yes, it sort of--stood between me-- JIM. You shouldn't have let it! LAURA. I know, but it did, and-- JIM. You were shy with people! LAURA. I tried not to be but never could-- JIM. Overcome it? LAURA. No, I--I never could! JIM. I guess being shy is something you have to work out of kind of gradually. LAURA. [Sorrowfully] Yes--I guess it-- JIM. Takes time! LAURA. Yes-- JIM. People are not so dreadful when you know them. That's what you have to remem- ber! And everybody has problems, not just you, but practically everybody has got some problems. You think of yourself as having the only problems, as being the only one who is disappointed. But just look around you and you will see lots of people as disappointed as you are. For instance, I hoped when I was going to high school that I would be further along at this time, six years later, than I am now--You remember that wonderful write-up I had in The Torch? LAURA. Yes! [She rises and crosses to table.] JIM. It said I was bound to succeed in any- thing I went into! [LAURA returns with the annual.] Holy Jeez! The Torch! [He accepts it reverently. They smile across it with mutual wonder. LAURA crouches beside him and they begin to turn through it. LAURA'S shyness is dissolving in his warmth.]

The Memory of Blue Roses

Laura and Jim reminisce about their shared high school chorus class, revealing Laura's deep-seated insecurities regarding her physical disability.
Laura describes the agonizing self-consciousness she felt walking through the auditorium, perceiving the sound of her leg brace as 'thunder' while Jim admits he never even noticed it.
The origin of Laura's nickname, 'Blue Roses,' is revealed as a misunderstanding of her illness, pleurosis, which became a term of endearment she cherished.
Jim offers a perspective on overcoming shyness, suggesting that everyone faces disappointments and that Laura is not alone in her struggles.
The two bond over an old high school yearbook, 'The Torch,' which highlights Jim's former glory as a popular student and performer.
Laura confesses her secret admiration for Jim during high school, admitting she attended all three of his operetta performances but was too shy to approach him.

I had that brace on my leg--it clumped so loud! To me it sounded like--thunder!

Scene VII | The Glass Menagerie LAURA. I didn't expect you to. You--barely knew me! JIM. But we did have a speaking acquaint- ance, huh? LAURA. Yes, we--spoke to each other. JIM. When did you recognize me? LAURA. Oh, right away! JIM. Soon as I came in the door? LAURA. When I heard your name I thought it was probably you. I knew that Tom used to know you a little in high school. So when you came in the door--Well, then I was--sure. JIM. Why didn't you say something, then? LAURA. [Breathlessly] I didn't know what to say, I was--too surprised! JIM. For goodness' sakes! You know, this sure is funny! LAURA. Yes! Yes, isn't it, though... JIM. Didn't we have a class in something together? LAURA. Yes, we did. JIM. What class was that? LAURA. It was--singing--Chorus! JIM. Aw! LAURA. I sat across the aisle from you in the Aud. JIM. Aw LAURA. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. JIM. Now I remember--you always came in late. LAURA. It was so hard for me, getting upstairs. I had that brace on my leg--it clumped so loud! JIM. I never heard any clumping. LAURA. [Wincing at the recollection] To me it sounded like--thunder! JIM. Well, well, well, I never even noticed. LAURA. And everybody was seated before I came in. I had to walk in front of all those people. My seat was in the back row. I had to go clumping all the way up the aisle with everyone watching! JIM. You shouldn't have been self-conscious. LAURA. I know, but I was. It was always such a relief when the singing started. JIM. Aw, yes, I've placed you now! I used to call you Blue Roses. How was it that I got started calling you that? LAURA. I was out of school a little while with pleurosis. When I came back you asked me what was the matter. I said I had pleurosis-- you thought I said Blue Roses. That's what you always called me after that! JIM. I hope you didn't mind. LAURA. Oh, no--I liked it. You see, I wasn't acquainted with many--people... JIM. As I remember you sort of stuck by yourself. LAURA. I--I--never have had much luck at --making friends. JIM. I don't see why you wouldn't. LAURA. Well, I--started out badly. JIM. You mean being-- LAURA. Yes, it sort of--stood between me-- JIM. You shouldn't have let it! LAURA. I know, but it did, and-- JIM. You were shy with people! LAURA. I tried not to be but never could-- JIM. Overcome it? LAURA. No, I--I never could! JIM. I guess being shy is something you have to work out of kind of gradually. LAURA. [Sorrowfully] Yes--I guess it-- JIM. Takes time! LAURA. Yes-- JIM. People are not so dreadful when you know them. That's what you have to remem- ber! And everybody has problems, not just you, but practically everybody has got some problems. You think of yourself as having the only problems, as being the only one who is disappointed. But just look around you and you will see lots of people as disappointed as you are. For instance, I hoped when I was going to high school that I would be further along at this time, six years later, than I am now--You remember that wonderful write-up I had in The Torch? LAURA. Yes! [She rises and crosses to table.] JIM. It said I was bound to succeed in any- thing I went into! [LAURA returns with the annual.] Holy Jeez! The Torch! [He accepts it reverently. They smile across it with mutual wonder. LAURA crouches beside him and they begin to turn through it. LAURA'S shyness is dissolving in his warmth.]

778 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII LAURA Here you are in The Pirates of Penzance! JIM [Wistfully] I sang the baritone lead in that operetta LAURA [Raptly] So—beautifully! JIM [Protesting] Aw— LAURA Yes, yes—beautifully—beautifully! JIM You heard me? LAURA All three times! JIM No! LAURA Yes! JIM All three performances? LAURA [Looking down] Yes. JIM Why? LAURA I—wanted to ask you—autograph my program JIM Why didn't you ask me to? LAURA You were always surrounded by your own friends so much that I never had a chance to. JIM You should have just— LAURA Well, I—thought you might think I was— JIM Thought I might think you was—what? LAURA Oh— JIM [With reflective relish] I was beleaguered by females in those days. LAURA You were terribly popular! JIM Yeah— LAURA You had such a—friendly way— JIM I was spoiled in high school. LAURA Everybody—liked you! JIM Including you? LAURA I—yes, I—I did, too— [She gently closes the book in her lap.] JIM Well, well, well!—Give me that program, Laura [She hands it to him. He signs it with a flourish.] There you are—better late than never! LAURA Oh, I—what a—surprise! JIM My signature isn't worth very much right now. But some day—maybe—it will increase in value! Being disappointed is one thing and being discouraged is something else I am disappointed but I am not discouraged. I'm twenty-three years old. How old are you? LAURA I'll be twenty-four in June. JIM That's not old age! LAURA No, but— JIM You finished high school? LAURA [With difficulty] I didn't go back. JIM You mean you dropped out? LAURA I made bad grades in my final examinations [She rises and replaces the book and the program Her voice strained.] How is—Emily Meisenbach getting along? JIM Oh, that kraut-head! LAURA Why do you call her that? JIM That's what she was LAURA You're not still—going with her? JIM I never see her. LAURA It said in the Personal Section that you were—engaged! JIM I know, but I wasn't impressed by that—propaganda! LAURA It wasn't—the truth? JIM Only in Emily's optimistic opinion! LAURA Oh— [LEGEND: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE SINCE HIGH SCHOOL?"] [JIM lights a cigarette and leans indolently back on his elbows smiling at LAURA with a warmth and charm which lights her inwardly with altar candles. She remains by the table and turns in her hands a piece of glass to cover her tumult.] JIM [After several reflective puffs on a cigarette] What have you done since high school? [She seems to not hear him.] Huh? [LAURA looks up.] I said what have you done since high school, Laura? LAURA Nothing much. JIM You must have been doing something these six long years LAURA Yes. JIM Well, then, such as what? LAURA I took a business course at business college— JIM How did that work out? LAURA Well, not very—well—I had to drop out, it gave me—indigestion— [JIM laughs gently.] JIM What are you doing now? LAURA I don't do anything—much. Oh, please don't think I sit around doing nothing! My glass collection takes up a good deal of

The Diagnosis of Shyness

Jim O'Connor reconnects with Laura Wingfield by signing her old high school program, symbolizing his lingering status as a former hero.
Laura reveals her deep-seated insecurities, admitting she dropped out of both high school and business college due to anxiety and physical illness.
Jim dismisses his past engagement to Emily Meisenbach as mere 'propaganda,' momentarily easing Laura's romantic anxieties.
Laura explains that her life is currently centered around the meticulous care of her glass menagerie, which Jim views as a sign of her withdrawal.
Jim adopts a mentor-like persona, diagnosing Laura with an 'inferiority complex' and claiming her perceived physical flaws are 'hardly noticeable.'
The interaction highlights the contrast between Jim’s self-assured optimism and Laura’s fragile, static existence since their school days.

You see what you did? You dropped out of school, you gave up an education because of a clump, which as far as I know was practically non-existent!

778 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII LAURA Here you are in The Pirates of Penzance! JIM [Wistfully] I sang the baritone lead in that operetta LAURA [Raptly] So—beautifully! JIM [Protesting] Aw— LAURA Yes, yes—beautifully—beautifully! JIM You heard me? LAURA All three times! JIM No! LAURA Yes! JIM All three performances? LAURA [Looking down] Yes. JIM Why? LAURA I—wanted to ask you—autograph my program JIM Why didn't you ask me to? LAURA You were always surrounded by your own friends so much that I never had a chance to. JIM You should have just— LAURA Well, I—thought you might think I was— JIM Thought I might think you was—what? LAURA Oh— JIM [With reflective relish] I was beleaguered by females in those days. LAURA You were terribly popular! JIM Yeah— LAURA You had such a—friendly way— JIM I was spoiled in high school. LAURA Everybody—liked you! JIM Including you? LAURA I—yes, I—I did, too— [She gently closes the book in her lap.] JIM Well, well, well!—Give me that program, Laura [She hands it to him. He signs it with a flourish.] There you are—better late than never! LAURA Oh, I—what a—surprise! JIM My signature isn't worth very much right now. But some day—maybe—it will increase in value! Being disappointed is one thing and being discouraged is something else I am disappointed but I am not discouraged. I'm twenty-three years old. How old are you? LAURA I'll be twenty-four in June. JIM That's not old age! LAURA No, but— JIM You finished high school? LAURA [With difficulty] I didn't go back. JIM You mean you dropped out? LAURA I made bad grades in my final examinations [She rises and replaces the book and the program Her voice strained.] How is—Emily Meisenbach getting along? JIM Oh, that kraut-head! LAURA Why do you call her that? JIM That's what she was LAURA You're not still—going with her? JIM I never see her. LAURA It said in the Personal Section that you were—engaged! JIM I know, but I wasn't impressed by that—propaganda! LAURA It wasn't—the truth? JIM Only in Emily's optimistic opinion! LAURA Oh— [LEGEND: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE SINCE HIGH SCHOOL?"] [JIM lights a cigarette and leans indolently back on his elbows smiling at LAURA with a warmth and charm which lights her inwardly with altar candles. She remains by the table and turns in her hands a piece of glass to cover her tumult.] JIM [After several reflective puffs on a cigarette] What have you done since high school? [She seems to not hear him.] Huh? [LAURA looks up.] I said what have you done since high school, Laura? LAURA Nothing much. JIM You must have been doing something these six long years LAURA Yes. JIM Well, then, such as what? LAURA I took a business course at business college— JIM How did that work out? LAURA Well, not very—well—I had to drop out, it gave me—indigestion— [JIM laughs gently.] JIM What are you doing now? LAURA I don't do anything—much. Oh, please don't think I sit around doing nothing! My glass collection takes up a good deal of

Scene VII | The Glass Menagerie time Glass is something you have to take good care of. JIM. What did you say — about glass? LAURA. Collection I said — I have one — [She clears her throat and turns away again, acutely shy] JIM [Abruptly]. You know what I judge to be the trouble with you? Inferiority complex! Know what that is? That’s what they call it when someone low-rates himself! I understand it because I had it, too. Although my case was not so aggravated as yours seems to be. I had it until I took up public speaking, developed my voice, and learned that I had an aptitude for science. Before that time I never thought of myself as being outstanding in any way whatsoever! Now I’ve never made a regular study of it, but I have a friend who says I can analyze people better than doctors that make a profession of it I don’t claim that to be necessarily true, but I can sure guess a person’s psychology, Laura! [Takes out his gum.] Excuse me, Laura I always take it out when the flavor is gone. I’ll use this scrap of paper to wrap it in. I know how it is to get it stuck on a shoe. Yep — that’s what I judge to be your principal trouble. A lack of confidence in yourself as a person. You don’t have the proper amount of faith in yourself. I’m basing that fact on a number of your remarks and also on certain observations I’ve made. For instance that clumping you thought was so awful in high school. You say you even dreaded to walk into class. You see what you did? You dropped out of school, you gave up an education because of a clump, which as far as I know was prac- tically non-existent! A little physical defect is what you have. Hardly noticeable even! Mag- nified thousands of times by imagination! You know what my strong advice to you is? Think of yourself as superior in some way! LAURA In what way would I think? JIM. Why, man alive, Laura! Just look about you a little. What do you see? A world full of common people! All of ‘em born and all of ‘em going to die! Which of them has one-tenth of your good points! Or mine! Or anyone else’s, as far as that goes — Gosh! Everybody excels in some one thing. Some in many! [Uncon- sciously glances at himself in the mirror] All you’ve got to do is discover in what! Take me, for instance. [He adjusts his tie at the mirror] My interest happens to lie in electro-dynamics. I’m taking a course in radio engineering at night school, Laura, on top of a fairly re- sponsible job at the warehouse. I’m taking that course and studying public speaking LAURA Ohhhh JIM. Because I believe in the future of tele- vision! [Turning back to her.] I wish to be ready to go up right along with it. Therefore I’m planning to get in on the ground floor. In fact I’ve already made the right connections and all that remains is for the industry to get under way! Full steam — [His eyes are starry] Knowledge — Zzzzzp! Money — Zzzzzp! — Power! That’s the cycle democracy is built on! [His attitude is convincingly dynamic. LAURA stares at him, even her shyness eclipsed in her absolute wonder He suddenly grins.] I guess you think I think a lot of myself! LAURA No — o — o — o, I — JIM. Now how about you? Isn’t there some- thing you take more interest in than anything else? LAURA. Well, I do — as I said — have my — glass collection — [A peal of girlish laughter from the kitchen] JIM I’m not right sure I know what you’re talking about. What kind of glass is it? LAURA Little articles of it, they’re ornaments mostly! Most of them are little animals made out of glass, the tiniest little animals in the world Mother calls them a glass menagerie! Here’s an example of one, if you’d like to see it! This is one of the oldest. It’s nearly thirteen [Music: “The Glass Menagerie”] [He stretches out his hand.] Oh, be careful — if you breathe, it breaks! JIM. I’d better not take it. I’m pretty clumsy with things. LAURA Go on, I trust you with him! [Places it in his palm.] There now — you’re holding him gently! Hold him over the light, he loves the light! You see how the light shines through him?

The Unicorn and the Future

Jim encourages Laura to view herself as superior to the 'common people' by discovering her unique talents.
Jim shares his ambitious vision for the future, focusing on the potential of television and the cycle of knowledge, money, and power.
Laura introduces Jim to her glass menagerie, specifically her favorite piece: a delicate, rare unicorn.
The unicorn serves as a metaphor for Laura herself—fragile, unique, and somewhat 'extinct' or out of place in the modern world.
Jim attempts to draw Laura out of her shell by inviting her to dance to the music drifting in from the Paradise Dance Hall.

Oh, be careful — if you breathe, it breaks!

Scene VII | The Glass Menagerie time Glass is something you have to take good care of. JIM. What did you say — about glass? LAURA. Collection I said — I have one — [She clears her throat and turns away again, acutely shy] JIM [Abruptly]. You know what I judge to be the trouble with you? Inferiority complex! Know what that is? That’s what they call it when someone low-rates himself! I understand it because I had it, too. Although my case was not so aggravated as yours seems to be. I had it until I took up public speaking, developed my voice, and learned that I had an aptitude for science. Before that time I never thought of myself as being outstanding in any way whatsoever! Now I’ve never made a regular study of it, but I have a friend who says I can analyze people better than doctors that make a profession of it I don’t claim that to be necessarily true, but I can sure guess a person’s psychology, Laura! [Takes out his gum.] Excuse me, Laura I always take it out when the flavor is gone. I’ll use this scrap of paper to wrap it in. I know how it is to get it stuck on a shoe. Yep — that’s what I judge to be your principal trouble. A lack of confidence in yourself as a person. You don’t have the proper amount of faith in yourself. I’m basing that fact on a number of your remarks and also on certain observations I’ve made. For instance that clumping you thought was so awful in high school. You say you even dreaded to walk into class. You see what you did? You dropped out of school, you gave up an education because of a clump, which as far as I know was prac- tically non-existent! A little physical defect is what you have. Hardly noticeable even! Mag- nified thousands of times by imagination! You know what my strong advice to you is? Think of yourself as superior in some way! LAURA In what way would I think? JIM. Why, man alive, Laura! Just look about you a little. What do you see? A world full of common people! All of ‘em born and all of ‘em going to die! Which of them has one-tenth of your good points! Or mine! Or anyone else’s, as far as that goes — Gosh! Everybody excels in some one thing. Some in many! [Uncon- sciously glances at himself in the mirror] All you’ve got to do is discover in what! Take me, for instance. [He adjusts his tie at the mirror] My interest happens to lie in electro-dynamics. I’m taking a course in radio engineering at night school, Laura, on top of a fairly re- sponsible job at the warehouse. I’m taking that course and studying public speaking LAURA Ohhhh JIM. Because I believe in the future of tele- vision! [Turning back to her.] I wish to be ready to go up right along with it. Therefore I’m planning to get in on the ground floor. In fact I’ve already made the right connections and all that remains is for the industry to get under way! Full steam — [His eyes are starry] Knowledge — Zzzzzp! Money — Zzzzzp! — Power! That’s the cycle democracy is built on! [His attitude is convincingly dynamic. LAURA stares at him, even her shyness eclipsed in her absolute wonder He suddenly grins.] I guess you think I think a lot of myself! LAURA No — o — o — o, I — JIM. Now how about you? Isn’t there some- thing you take more interest in than anything else? LAURA. Well, I do — as I said — have my — glass collection — [A peal of girlish laughter from the kitchen] JIM I’m not right sure I know what you’re talking about. What kind of glass is it? LAURA Little articles of it, they’re ornaments mostly! Most of them are little animals made out of glass, the tiniest little animals in the world Mother calls them a glass menagerie! Here’s an example of one, if you’d like to see it! This is one of the oldest. It’s nearly thirteen [Music: “The Glass Menagerie”] [He stretches out his hand.] Oh, be careful — if you breathe, it breaks! JIM. I’d better not take it. I’m pretty clumsy with things. LAURA Go on, I trust you with him! [Places it in his palm.] There now — you’re holding him gently! Hold him over the light, he loves the light! You see how the light shines through him?

780 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII Jim. It sure does shine! Laura. I shouldn't be partial, but he is my favorite one. Jim. What kind of a thing is this one sup- 5 posed to be? Laura. Haven't you noticed the single horn on his forehead? Jim. A unicorn, huh? Laura. Mmm-hmmm! 10 Jim. Unicorns, aren't they extinct in the modern world? Laura. I know! Jim. Poor little fellow, he must feel sort of lonesome 15 Laura [Smiling]. Well, if he does he doesn't complain about it. He stays on a shelf with some horses that don't have horns and all of them seem to get along nicely together. Jim. How do you know? 20 Laura [Lightly]. I haven't heard any arguments among them! Jim [Grinning]. No arguments, huh? Well, that's a pretty good sign! Where shall I set him! Laura. Put him on the table. They all like a 25 change of scenery once in a while! Jim [Stretching]. Well, well, well, well—Look how big my shadow is when I stretch! Laura. Oh, oh, yes—it stretches across the ceiling! 30 Jim [Crossing to door]. I think it's stopped raining. [Opens fire-escape door.] Where does the music come from? Laura. From the Paradise Dance Hall across the alley. 35 Jim. How about cutting the rug a little, Miss Wingfield? Laura. Oh, I— Jim. Or is your program filled up? Let me have a look at it. [Grasps imaginary card] Why, 40 every dance is taken! I'll just have to scratch some out. [Waltz music: "La Golondrina."] Ahhh, a waltz! [He executes some sweeping turns by himself then holds his arms toward Laura.] 45 Laura [Breathlessly]. I—can't dance! Jim. There you go, that inferiority stuff! Laura. I've never danced in my life! Jim. Come on, try! Laura. Oh, but I'd step on you! Jim. I'm not made out of glass. 50 Jim. How—how—how do we start? Jim. Just leave it to me. You hold your arms out a little Laura. Like this? Jim. A little bit higher. Right. Now don't 55 tighten up, that's the main thing about it—relax. Laura [Laughing breathlessly]. It's hard not to. Jim. Okay. 60 Laura. I'm afraid you can't budge me. Jim. What do you bet I can't? [He swings her into motion.] Laura. Goodness, yes, you can! Jim. Let yourself go, now, Laura, just let 65 yourself go. Laura. I'm— Jim. Come on! Laura. Trying! Jim. Not so stiff—Easy does it! 70 Laura. I know but I'm— Jim. Loosen th' backbone! There now, that's a lot better. Laura. Am I? Jim. Lots, lots better! [He moves her about the 75 room in a clumsy waltz.] Laura. Oh, my! Jim. Ha-ha! Laura. Oh, my goodness! Jim. Ha-ha-ha! [They suddenly bump into the 80 table. Jim stops.] What did we hit on? Laura. Table. Jim. Did something fall off it? I think— Laura. Yes. Jim. I hope that it wasn't the little glass horse 85 with the horn! Laura. Yes. Jim. Aw, aw, aw. Is it broken? Laura. Now it is just like all the other horses. Jim. It's lost its— 90 Laura. Horn! It doesn't matter. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise. Jim. You'll never forgive me. I bet that that was your favorite piece of glass. Laura. I don't have favorites much. It's no 95 tragedy, Freckles. Glass breaks so easily. No

The Broken Unicorn

Jim coaxes a reluctant and insecure Laura into a clumsy waltz, momentarily breaking through her social paralysis.
During their dance, they collide with a table, causing Laura's favorite glass unicorn to fall and lose its horn.
Laura reacts with surprising grace to the accident, suggesting the unicorn is now 'normal' and will feel more at home with the other horses.
Jim shifts from a mentor-like role to a romantic one, praising Laura's unique beauty and 'different' nature.
The metaphor of 'Blue Roses' is used to describe Laura's rare, exotic, and non-conformist identity.
The scene culminates in a moment of intense emotional vulnerability as Jim attempts to instill confidence in Laura through physical and verbal affection.

I'll just imagine he had an operation. The horn was removed to make him feel less-freakish!

780 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII Jim. It sure does shine! Laura. I shouldn't be partial, but he is my favorite one. Jim. What kind of a thing is this one sup- 5 posed to be? Laura. Haven't you noticed the single horn on his forehead? Jim. A unicorn, huh? Laura. Mmm-hmmm! 10 Jim. Unicorns, aren't they extinct in the modern world? Laura. I know! Jim. Poor little fellow, he must feel sort of lonesome 15 Laura [Smiling]. Well, if he does he doesn't complain about it. He stays on a shelf with some horses that don't have horns and all of them seem to get along nicely together. Jim. How do you know? 20 Laura [Lightly]. I haven't heard any arguments among them! Jim [Grinning]. No arguments, huh? Well, that's a pretty good sign! Where shall I set him! Laura. Put him on the table. They all like a 25 change of scenery once in a while! Jim [Stretching]. Well, well, well, well—Look how big my shadow is when I stretch! Laura. Oh, oh, yes—it stretches across the ceiling! 30 Jim [Crossing to door]. I think it's stopped raining. [Opens fire-escape door.] Where does the music come from? Laura. From the Paradise Dance Hall across the alley. 35 Jim. How about cutting the rug a little, Miss Wingfield? Laura. Oh, I— Jim. Or is your program filled up? Let me have a look at it. [Grasps imaginary card] Why, 40 every dance is taken! I'll just have to scratch some out. [Waltz music: "La Golondrina."] Ahhh, a waltz! [He executes some sweeping turns by himself then holds his arms toward Laura.] 45 Laura [Breathlessly]. I—can't dance! Jim. There you go, that inferiority stuff! Laura. I've never danced in my life! Jim. Come on, try! Laura. Oh, but I'd step on you! Jim. I'm not made out of glass. 50 Jim. How—how—how do we start? Jim. Just leave it to me. You hold your arms out a little Laura. Like this? Jim. A little bit higher. Right. Now don't 55 tighten up, that's the main thing about it—relax. Laura [Laughing breathlessly]. It's hard not to. Jim. Okay. 60 Laura. I'm afraid you can't budge me. Jim. What do you bet I can't? [He swings her into motion.] Laura. Goodness, yes, you can! Jim. Let yourself go, now, Laura, just let 65 yourself go. Laura. I'm— Jim. Come on! Laura. Trying! Jim. Not so stiff—Easy does it! 70 Laura. I know but I'm— Jim. Loosen th' backbone! There now, that's a lot better. Laura. Am I? Jim. Lots, lots better! [He moves her about the 75 room in a clumsy waltz.] Laura. Oh, my! Jim. Ha-ha! Laura. Oh, my goodness! Jim. Ha-ha-ha! [They suddenly bump into the 80 table. Jim stops.] What did we hit on? Laura. Table. Jim. Did something fall off it? I think— Laura. Yes. Jim. I hope that it wasn't the little glass horse 85 with the horn! Laura. Yes. Jim. Aw, aw, aw. Is it broken? Laura. Now it is just like all the other horses. Jim. It's lost its— 90 Laura. Horn! It doesn't matter. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise. Jim. You'll never forgive me. I bet that that was your favorite piece of glass. Laura. I don't have favorites much. It's no 95 tragedy, Freckles. Glass breaks so easily. No

matter how careful you are. The traffic jars the shelves and things fall off them JIM Still I'm awfully sorry that I was the cause LAURA [Smiling] I'll just imagine he had an operation. The horn was removed to make him feel less-freakish! [They both laugh ] Now he will feel more at home with the other horses, the ones that don't have horns. JIM Ha-ha, that's very funny! [Suddenly serious ] I'm glad to see that you have a sense of humor. You know-you're-well-very different! Surprisingly different from anyone else I know! [His voice becomes soft and hesitant with a genuine feeling]. Do you mind me telling you that? [LAURA is abashed beyond speech ] I mean it in a nice way... [LAURA nods shyly, looking away.] You make me feel sort of-I don't know how to put it! I'm usually pretty good at ex- pressing things, but-This is something that I don't know how to say! [LAURA touches her throat and clears it-turns the broken unicorn in her hands Even softer]. Has anyone ever told you that you were pretty? [PAUSE: MUSIC.] [LAURA looks up slowly, with wonder, and shakes her head.] Well, you are! In a very different way from anyone else. And all the nicer because of the difference too [His voice becomes low and husky LAURA turns away, nearly faint with the novelty of her emotions] I wish that you were my sister. I'd teach you to have some con- fidence in yourself. The different people are not like other people, but being different is nothing to be ashamed of. Because other people are not such wonderful people. They're one hundred times one thousand. You're one times one! They walk all over the earth. You just stay here. They're common as-weeds, but -you-well, you're-Blue Roses! [IMAGE ON SCREEN: BLUE ROSES.] [MUSIC CHANGES.] LAURA But blue is wrong for-roses... JIM It's right for you!-You're-pretty! LAURA In what respect am I pretty? JIM In all respects-believe me! Your eyes- Scene VII | The Glass Menagerie your hair-are pretty! Your hands are pretty! [He catches hold of her hand] You think I'm 50 making this up because I'm invited to dinner and have to be nice. Oh, I could do that! I could put on an act for you, Laura, and say lots of things without being very sincere. But this time I am. I'm talking to you sincerely I 55 happened to notice you had this inferiority complex that keeps you from feeling com- fortable with people. Somebody needs to build your confidence up and make you proud instead of shy and turning away and-blush- 60 ing-Somebody-ought to-ought to-kiss you, Laura! [His hand slips slowly up her arm to her shoulder.] [MUSIC SWELLS TUMULTUOUSLY.] [He suddenly turns her about and kisses her 65 on the lips. When he releases her, LAURA sinks on the sofa with a bright, dazed look. JIM backs away and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "SOUVENIR."] Stumble-john! [He lights the cigarette, avoiding 70 her look There is a peal of girlish laughter from AMANDA in the kitchen LAURA slowly raises and opens her hand. It still contains the little broken glass animal. She looks at it with a tender, bewildered expression.] Stumble-john! I 75 shouldn't have done that-That was way off the beam. You don't smoke, do you? [She looks up, smiling, not hearing the question. He sits beside her a little gingerly. She looks at him speechlessly-waiting. He coughs decorously and 80 moves a little farther aside as he considers the situation and senses her feelings, dimly, with perturbation. Gently.] Would you-care for a -mint? [She doesn't seem to hear him but her look grows brighter even.] Peppermint-Life- 85 Saver? My pocket's a regular drug store- wherever I go... [He pops a mint in his mouth. Then gulps and decides to make a clean breast of it. He speaks slowly and gingerly] Laura, you know, if I had a sister like you, I'd do 90 the same thing as Tom. I'd bring out fel- lows and-introduce her to them. The right type of boys of a type to-appreciate her. Only -well-he made a mistake about me. Maybe I've got no call to be saying this. That may not 95 have been the idea in having me over. But

A Fragile Moment Shattered

Jim attempts to bolster Laura's self-esteem by addressing her social anxieties and offering a sudden, impulsive kiss.
The romantic tension peaks as Laura experiences a brief moment of dazed hope, symbolized by the broken glass figurine in her hand.
Jim immediately regrets his actions, labeling himself a 'stumble-john' and attempting to distance himself from the intimacy of the moment.
The revelation that Jim is already 'going steady' with a woman named Betty effectively crushes Laura's burgeoning expectations.
Jim’s oblivious monologue about the transformative power of love contrasts sharply with Laura's internal devastation and sense of betrayal.
The scene concludes with a profound shift in Laura's demeanor, moving from a state of radiant possibility to one of infinite desolation.

The holy candles in the altar of LAURA’S face have been snuffed out There is a look of almost infinite desolation

matter how careful you are. The traffic jars the shelves and things fall off them JIM Still I'm awfully sorry that I was the cause LAURA [Smiling] I'll just imagine he had an operation. The horn was removed to make him feel less-freakish! [They both laugh ] Now he will feel more at home with the other horses, the ones that don't have horns. JIM Ha-ha, that's very funny! [Suddenly serious ] I'm glad to see that you have a sense of humor. You know-you're-well-very different! Surprisingly different from anyone else I know! [His voice becomes soft and hesitant with a genuine feeling]. Do you mind me telling you that? [LAURA is abashed beyond speech ] I mean it in a nice way... [LAURA nods shyly, looking away.] You make me feel sort of-I don't know how to put it! I'm usually pretty good at ex- pressing things, but-This is something that I don't know how to say! [LAURA touches her throat and clears it-turns the broken unicorn in her hands Even softer]. Has anyone ever told you that you were pretty? [PAUSE: MUSIC.] [LAURA looks up slowly, with wonder, and shakes her head.] Well, you are! In a very different way from anyone else. And all the nicer because of the difference too [His voice becomes low and husky LAURA turns away, nearly faint with the novelty of her emotions] I wish that you were my sister. I'd teach you to have some con- fidence in yourself. The different people are not like other people, but being different is nothing to be ashamed of. Because other people are not such wonderful people. They're one hundred times one thousand. You're one times one! They walk all over the earth. You just stay here. They're common as-weeds, but -you-well, you're-Blue Roses! [IMAGE ON SCREEN: BLUE ROSES.] [MUSIC CHANGES.] LAURA But blue is wrong for-roses... JIM It's right for you!-You're-pretty! LAURA In what respect am I pretty? JIM In all respects-believe me! Your eyes- Scene VII | The Glass Menagerie your hair-are pretty! Your hands are pretty! [He catches hold of her hand] You think I'm 50 making this up because I'm invited to dinner and have to be nice. Oh, I could do that! I could put on an act for you, Laura, and say lots of things without being very sincere. But this time I am. I'm talking to you sincerely I 55 happened to notice you had this inferiority complex that keeps you from feeling com- fortable with people. Somebody needs to build your confidence up and make you proud instead of shy and turning away and-blush- 60 ing-Somebody-ought to-ought to-kiss you, Laura! [His hand slips slowly up her arm to her shoulder.] [MUSIC SWELLS TUMULTUOUSLY.] [He suddenly turns her about and kisses her 65 on the lips. When he releases her, LAURA sinks on the sofa with a bright, dazed look. JIM backs away and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "SOUVENIR."] Stumble-john! [He lights the cigarette, avoiding 70 her look There is a peal of girlish laughter from AMANDA in the kitchen LAURA slowly raises and opens her hand. It still contains the little broken glass animal. She looks at it with a tender, bewildered expression.] Stumble-john! I 75 shouldn't have done that-That was way off the beam. You don't smoke, do you? [She looks up, smiling, not hearing the question. He sits beside her a little gingerly. She looks at him speechlessly-waiting. He coughs decorously and 80 moves a little farther aside as he considers the situation and senses her feelings, dimly, with perturbation. Gently.] Would you-care for a -mint? [She doesn't seem to hear him but her look grows brighter even.] Peppermint-Life- 85 Saver? My pocket's a regular drug store- wherever I go... [He pops a mint in his mouth. Then gulps and decides to make a clean breast of it. He speaks slowly and gingerly] Laura, you know, if I had a sister like you, I'd do 90 the same thing as Tom. I'd bring out fel- lows and-introduce her to them. The right type of boys of a type to-appreciate her. Only -well-he made a mistake about me. Maybe I've got no call to be saying this. That may not 95 have been the idea in having me over. But

782 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII what if it was? There’s nothing wrong about that. The only trouble is that in my case—I’m not in a situation to—do the right thing I can’t take down your number and say I’ll 5 phone. I can’t call up next week and—ask for a date. I thought I had better explain the situa- tion in case you—misunderstood it and—hurt your feelings. . . [Pause. Slowly, very slowly, LAURA’S look 10 changes, her eyes returning slowly from his to the ornament in her palm AMANDA utters another gay laugh in the kitchen.] LAURA [Faintly]. You—won’t—call again? JIM. No, Laura, I can’t. [He rises from the 15 sofa] As I was just explaining, I’ve—got strings on me. Laura, I’ve—been going steady! I go out all of the time with a girl named Betty She’s a home-girl like you, and Catholic, and Irish, and in a great many ways we—get along 20 fine. I met her last summer on a moonlight boat trip up the river to Alton, on the Majestic. Well—right away from the start it was—love! [LEGEND: LOVE!] [LAURA sways slightly forward and grips the 25 arm of the sofa He fails to notice, now enrapt in his own comfortable being.] Being in love has made a new man of me! [Leaning stiffly forward, clutching the arm of the sofa, LAURA struggles visibly with her storm. 30 But JIM is oblivious, she is a long way off.] The power of love is really pretty tremendous! Love is something that—changes the whole world, Laura! [The storm abates a little and LAURA leans back. He notices her again.] It 35 happened that Betty’s aunt took sick, she got a wire and had to go to Centralia. So Tom— when he asked me to dinner—I naturally just accepted the invitation, not knowing that you —that he—that I—[He stops awkwardly.] Huh 40 —I’m a stumble-john! [He flops back on the sofa The holy candles in the altar of LAURA’S face have been snuffed out There is a look of almost infinite desolation JIM glances at her uneasily.] I wish that you would—say some- 45 thing. [She bites her lip which was trembling and then bravely smiles. She opens her hand again on the broken glass ornament. Then she gently takes his hand and raises it level with her own. She carefully places the unicorn in the palm of his hand, then pushes his fingers closed upon 50 it.] What are you—doing that for? You want me to have him?—Laura? [She nods] What for? LAURA. A—souvenir [She rises un- steadily and crouches beside the victrola to wind 55 it up.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: “THINGS HAVE A WAY OF TURNING OUT SO BADLY!”] [OR IMAGE: “GENTLEMAN CALLER WAVING GOOD-BYE!—GAILY.”] 60 [At this moment AMANDA rushes brightly back in the front room. She bears a pitcher of fruit punch in an old-fashioned cut-glass pitcher and a plate of macaroons. The plate has a gold border and poppies painted on it.] 65 AMANDA. Well, well, well! Isn’t the air de- lightful after the shower? I’ve made you chil- dren a little liquid refreshment [Turns gaily to the gentleman caller.] Jim, do you know that song about lemonade? 70 “Lemonade, lemonade Made in the shade and stirred with a spade— Good enough for any old maid!” JIM [Uneasily] Ha-ha! No—I never heard it. AMANDA. Why, Laura! You look so serious! 75 JIM. We were having a serious conversation. AMANDA. Good! Now you’re better ac- quainted! JIM [Uncertainly]. Ha-ha! Yes. AMANDA. You modern young people are 80 much more serious-minded than my genera- tion. I was so gay as a girl! JIM. You haven’t changed, Mrs. Wingfield. AMANDA. Tonight I’m rejuvenated! The gaiety of the occasion, Mr. O’Connor! [She 85 tosses her head with a peal of laughter Spills lemonade.] Oooo! I’m baptizing myself! JIM. Here—let me— AMANDA [Setting the pitcher down]. There now. I discovered we had some maraschino 90 cherries. I dumped them in, juice and all! JIM. You shouldn’t have gone to that trouble, Mrs. Wingfield. AMANDA. Trouble, trouble? Why, it was loads of fun! Didn’t you hear me cutting up in 95 the kitchen? I bet your ears were burning! I

The Shattered Souvenir

Laura gives Jim her broken glass unicorn as a souvenir, symbolizing the end of her fragile hopes.
Amanda enters with refreshments, oblivious to the emotional weight of the preceding conversation.
Amanda aggressively encourages Jim to become a frequent visitor, envisioning a future that does not exist.
Jim awkwardly reveals that he is already engaged to a girl named Betty and plans to marry in June.
The revelation of Jim's engagement acts as a devastating climax, described metaphorically as the sky falling.
Amanda's forced gaiety is instantly deflated as she realizes Tom failed to mention Jim's romantic status.

Oh, just a girl! The girl I go steady with! [He smiles charmingly. The sky falls.]

782 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII what if it was? There’s nothing wrong about that. The only trouble is that in my case—I’m not in a situation to—do the right thing I can’t take down your number and say I’ll 5 phone. I can’t call up next week and—ask for a date. I thought I had better explain the situa- tion in case you—misunderstood it and—hurt your feelings. . . [Pause. Slowly, very slowly, LAURA’S look 10 changes, her eyes returning slowly from his to the ornament in her palm AMANDA utters another gay laugh in the kitchen.] LAURA [Faintly]. You—won’t—call again? JIM. No, Laura, I can’t. [He rises from the 15 sofa] As I was just explaining, I’ve—got strings on me. Laura, I’ve—been going steady! I go out all of the time with a girl named Betty She’s a home-girl like you, and Catholic, and Irish, and in a great many ways we—get along 20 fine. I met her last summer on a moonlight boat trip up the river to Alton, on the Majestic. Well—right away from the start it was—love! [LEGEND: LOVE!] [LAURA sways slightly forward and grips the 25 arm of the sofa He fails to notice, now enrapt in his own comfortable being.] Being in love has made a new man of me! [Leaning stiffly forward, clutching the arm of the sofa, LAURA struggles visibly with her storm. 30 But JIM is oblivious, she is a long way off.] The power of love is really pretty tremendous! Love is something that—changes the whole world, Laura! [The storm abates a little and LAURA leans back. He notices her again.] It 35 happened that Betty’s aunt took sick, she got a wire and had to go to Centralia. So Tom— when he asked me to dinner—I naturally just accepted the invitation, not knowing that you —that he—that I—[He stops awkwardly.] Huh 40 —I’m a stumble-john! [He flops back on the sofa The holy candles in the altar of LAURA’S face have been snuffed out There is a look of almost infinite desolation JIM glances at her uneasily.] I wish that you would—say some- 45 thing. [She bites her lip which was trembling and then bravely smiles. She opens her hand again on the broken glass ornament. Then she gently takes his hand and raises it level with her own. She carefully places the unicorn in the palm of his hand, then pushes his fingers closed upon 50 it.] What are you—doing that for? You want me to have him?—Laura? [She nods] What for? LAURA. A—souvenir [She rises un- steadily and crouches beside the victrola to wind 55 it up.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: “THINGS HAVE A WAY OF TURNING OUT SO BADLY!”] [OR IMAGE: “GENTLEMAN CALLER WAVING GOOD-BYE!—GAILY.”] 60 [At this moment AMANDA rushes brightly back in the front room. She bears a pitcher of fruit punch in an old-fashioned cut-glass pitcher and a plate of macaroons. The plate has a gold border and poppies painted on it.] 65 AMANDA. Well, well, well! Isn’t the air de- lightful after the shower? I’ve made you chil- dren a little liquid refreshment [Turns gaily to the gentleman caller.] Jim, do you know that song about lemonade? 70 “Lemonade, lemonade Made in the shade and stirred with a spade— Good enough for any old maid!” JIM [Uneasily] Ha-ha! No—I never heard it. AMANDA. Why, Laura! You look so serious! 75 JIM. We were having a serious conversation. AMANDA. Good! Now you’re better ac- quainted! JIM [Uncertainly]. Ha-ha! Yes. AMANDA. You modern young people are 80 much more serious-minded than my genera- tion. I was so gay as a girl! JIM. You haven’t changed, Mrs. Wingfield. AMANDA. Tonight I’m rejuvenated! The gaiety of the occasion, Mr. O’Connor! [She 85 tosses her head with a peal of laughter Spills lemonade.] Oooo! I’m baptizing myself! JIM. Here—let me— AMANDA [Setting the pitcher down]. There now. I discovered we had some maraschino 90 cherries. I dumped them in, juice and all! JIM. You shouldn’t have gone to that trouble, Mrs. Wingfield. AMANDA. Trouble, trouble? Why, it was loads of fun! Didn’t you hear me cutting up in 95 the kitchen? I bet your ears were burning! I

SCENE VII | The Glass Menagerie told Tom how outdone with him I was for keeping you to himself so long a time! He should have brought you over much, much sooner! Well, now that you’ve found your way, 5 I want you to be a very frequent caller! Not just occasional but all the time Oh, we’re going to have a lot of gay times together! I see them coming! Mmmm, just breathe that air! So fresh, and the moon’s so pretty! I’ll skip 10 back out—I know where my place is when young folks are having a—serious conversa- tion! JIM. Oh, don’t go out, Mrs. Wingfield. The fact of the matter is I’ve got to be going. 15 AMANDA. Going, now? You’re joking! Why, it’s only the shank of the evening, Mr. O’Con- nor! JIM. Well, you know how it is. AMANDA. You mean you’re a young work- 20 ingman and have to keep workingmen’s hours. We’ll let you off early tonight. But only on the condition that next time you stay later. What’s the best night for you? Isn’t Saturday night the best night for you workingmen? 25 JIM. I have a couple of time-clocks to punch, Mrs. Wingfield. One at morning, another one at night! AMANDA. My, but you are ambitious! You work at night, too? 30 JIM. No, Ma’am, not work but—Betty! [He crosses deliberately to pick up his hat. The band at the Paradise Dance Hall goes into a tender waltz.] AMANDA. Betty? Betty? Who’s—Betty! [There 35 is an ominous cracking sound in the sky ] JIM. Oh, just a girl! The girl I go steady with! [He smiles charmingly. The sky falls.] [LEGEND: "THE SKY FALLS."] AMANDA. [A long-drawn exhalation]. Ohhhh 40 . . . Is it a serious romance, Mr. O’Connor? JIM. We’re going to be married the second Sunday in June. AMANDA. Ohhhh—how nice! Tom didn’t mention that you were engaged to be married 45 JIM. The cat’s not out of the bag at the ware- house yet. You know how they are They call you Romeo and stuff like that [He stops at the oval mirror to put on his hat. He carefully shapes the brim and the crown to give a discreetly dash- ing effect ] It’s been a wonderful evening, Mrs. 50 Wingfield. I guess this is what they mean by Southern hospitality AMANDA. It really wasn’t anything at all JIM. I hope it don’t seem like I’m rushing off. But I promised Betty I’d pick her up at the 55 Wabash depot, an’ by the time I get my jalopy down there her train’ll be in. Some women are pretty upset if you keep ‘em waiting. AMANDA. Yes, I know—The tyranny of women! [Extends her hand ] Good-bye, Mr. 60 O’Connor. I wish you luck—and happiness— and success! All three of them, and so does Laura!—Don’t you, Laura? LAURA. Yes! JIM [Taking her hand] Good-bye, Laura. I’m 65 certainly going to treasure that souvenir And don’t forget the good advice I gave you [Raises his voice to a cheery shout ] So long, Shakespeare! Thanks again, ladies—Good night! [He grins and ducks jauntily out Still 70 bravely grimacing, AMANDA closes the door on the gentleman caller. Then she turns back to the room with a puzzled expression She and LAURA don’t dare to face each other. LAURA crouches beside the victrola to wind it.] 75 AMANDA [Faintly] Things have a way of turning out so badly. I don’t believe that I would play the victrola. Well, well—well—Our gentleman caller was engaged to be married! Tom! 80 TOM [From back] Yes, Mother? AMANDA. Come in here a minute I want to tell you something awfully funny. TOM [Enters with macaroon and a glass of the lemonade] Has the gentleman caller gotten 85 away already? AMANDA. The gentleman caller has made an early departure. What a wonderful joke you played on us! TOM. How do you mean? 90 AMANDA. You didn’t mention that he was engaged to be married. TOM. Jim? Engaged? AMANDA. That’s what he just informed us. TOM. I’ll be jiggered! I didn’t know about 95 that.

The Shattered Illusion

Jim O'Connor departs the Wingfield apartment early, revealing he is engaged to be married to a woman named Betty.
Amanda is devastated by the news, realizing the extensive preparations and expenses for the 'gentleman caller' were in vain.
A heated confrontation erupts between Amanda and Tom, as she accuses him of being a 'selfish dreamer' who is oblivious to his family's needs.
Tom reacts violently to his mother's criticism, smashing a glass and fleeing to the fire escape to escape the domestic tension.
The scene shifts to a silent pantomime where Amanda comforts a heartbroken Laura, regaining a sense of tragic dignity in the absence of her voice.
The 'gentleman caller' experiment ends in total failure, deepening the family's isolation and Tom's desire for permanent escape.

Go, then! Then go to the moon—you selfish dreamer!

SCENE VII | The Glass Menagerie told Tom how outdone with him I was for keeping you to himself so long a time! He should have brought you over much, much sooner! Well, now that you’ve found your way, 5 I want you to be a very frequent caller! Not just occasional but all the time Oh, we’re going to have a lot of gay times together! I see them coming! Mmmm, just breathe that air! So fresh, and the moon’s so pretty! I’ll skip 10 back out—I know where my place is when young folks are having a—serious conversa- tion! JIM. Oh, don’t go out, Mrs. Wingfield. The fact of the matter is I’ve got to be going. 15 AMANDA. Going, now? You’re joking! Why, it’s only the shank of the evening, Mr. O’Con- nor! JIM. Well, you know how it is. AMANDA. You mean you’re a young work- 20 ingman and have to keep workingmen’s hours. We’ll let you off early tonight. But only on the condition that next time you stay later. What’s the best night for you? Isn’t Saturday night the best night for you workingmen? 25 JIM. I have a couple of time-clocks to punch, Mrs. Wingfield. One at morning, another one at night! AMANDA. My, but you are ambitious! You work at night, too? 30 JIM. No, Ma’am, not work but—Betty! [He crosses deliberately to pick up his hat. The band at the Paradise Dance Hall goes into a tender waltz.] AMANDA. Betty? Betty? Who’s—Betty! [There 35 is an ominous cracking sound in the sky ] JIM. Oh, just a girl! The girl I go steady with! [He smiles charmingly. The sky falls.] [LEGEND: "THE SKY FALLS."] AMANDA. [A long-drawn exhalation]. Ohhhh 40 . . . Is it a serious romance, Mr. O’Connor? JIM. We’re going to be married the second Sunday in June. AMANDA. Ohhhh—how nice! Tom didn’t mention that you were engaged to be married 45 JIM. The cat’s not out of the bag at the ware- house yet. You know how they are They call you Romeo and stuff like that [He stops at the oval mirror to put on his hat. He carefully shapes the brim and the crown to give a discreetly dash- ing effect ] It’s been a wonderful evening, Mrs. 50 Wingfield. I guess this is what they mean by Southern hospitality AMANDA. It really wasn’t anything at all JIM. I hope it don’t seem like I’m rushing off. But I promised Betty I’d pick her up at the 55 Wabash depot, an’ by the time I get my jalopy down there her train’ll be in. Some women are pretty upset if you keep ‘em waiting. AMANDA. Yes, I know—The tyranny of women! [Extends her hand ] Good-bye, Mr. 60 O’Connor. I wish you luck—and happiness— and success! All three of them, and so does Laura!—Don’t you, Laura? LAURA. Yes! JIM [Taking her hand] Good-bye, Laura. I’m 65 certainly going to treasure that souvenir And don’t forget the good advice I gave you [Raises his voice to a cheery shout ] So long, Shakespeare! Thanks again, ladies—Good night! [He grins and ducks jauntily out Still 70 bravely grimacing, AMANDA closes the door on the gentleman caller. Then she turns back to the room with a puzzled expression She and LAURA don’t dare to face each other. LAURA crouches beside the victrola to wind it.] 75 AMANDA [Faintly] Things have a way of turning out so badly. I don’t believe that I would play the victrola. Well, well—well—Our gentleman caller was engaged to be married! Tom! 80 TOM [From back] Yes, Mother? AMANDA. Come in here a minute I want to tell you something awfully funny. TOM [Enters with macaroon and a glass of the lemonade] Has the gentleman caller gotten 85 away already? AMANDA. The gentleman caller has made an early departure. What a wonderful joke you played on us! TOM. How do you mean? 90 AMANDA. You didn’t mention that he was engaged to be married. TOM. Jim? Engaged? AMANDA. That’s what he just informed us. TOM. I’ll be jiggered! I didn’t know about 95 that.

784 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII AMANDA. That seems very peculiar TOM. What's peculiar about it? AMANDA. Didn't you call him your best friend down at the warehouse? 5 TOM. He is, but how did I know? AMANDA. It seems extremely peculiar that you wouldn't know your best friend was going to be married! TOM. The warehouse is where I work, not 10 where I know things about people! AMANDA. You don't know things anywhere! You live in a dream; you manufacture illusions! [He crosses to door ] Where are you going? TOM. I'm going to the movies. 15 AMANDA. That's right, now that you've had us make such fools of ourselves. The effort, the preparations, all the expense! The new floor lamp, the rug, the clothes for Laura! All for what? To entertain some other girl's 20 fiancé! Go to the movies, go! Don't think about us, a mother deserted, an unmarried sister who's crippled and has no job! Don't let any- thing interfere with your selfish pleasure! Just go, go, go—to the movies! 25 TOM. All right, I will! The more you shout about my selfishness to me the quicker I'll go, and I won't go to the movies! AMANDA. Go, then! Then go to the moon— you selfish dreamer! 30 [TOM smashes his glass on the floor. He plunges out on the fire-escape, slamming the door. LAURA screams—cut by door Dance-hall music up. TOM goes to the rail and grips it desperately, lifting his face in the chill white moonlight pene- 35 trating the narrow abyss of the alley.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "AND SO GOOD- BYE . . ."] [TOM's closing speech is timed with the in- terior pantomime. The interior scene is played 40 as though viewed through soundproof glass. AMANDA appears to be making a comforting speech to LAURA who is huddled upon the sofa. Now that we cannot hear the mother's speech, her silliness is gone and she has dignity and 45 tragic beauty LAURA's dark hair hides her face until at the end of the speech she lifts it to smile at her mother. AMANDA's gestures are slow and graceful, almost dance-like, as she comforts the daughter. At the end of her speech she glances a moment at the father's picture—then withdraws 50 through the portieres. At close of TOM's speech, LAURA blows out the candles, ending the play.] TOM. I didn't go to the moon, I went much further—for time is the longest distance be- tween two places—Not long after that I was 55 fired for writing a poem on the lid of a shoe- box. I left Saint Louis. I descended the steps of this fire-escape for a last time and followed, from then on, in my father's footsteps, attempt- ing to find in motion what was lost in space—I 60 traveled around a great deal. The cities swept about me like dead leaves, leaves that were brightly colored but torn away from the branches. I would have stopped, but I was pursued by something It always came upon 65 me unawares, taking me altogether by sur- prise. Perhaps it was a familiar bit of music. Perhaps it was only a piece of transparent glass—Perhaps I am walking along a street at night, in some strange city, before I have found 70 companions. I pass the lighted window of a shop where perfume is sold. The window is filled with pieces of colored glass, tiny trans- parent bottles in delicate colors, like bits of a shattered rainbow. Then all at once my sister 75 touches my shoulder. I turn around and look into her eyes . . . Oh, Laura, Laura, I tried to leave you behind me, but I am more faithful than I intended to be! I reach for a cigarette, I cross the street, I run into the movies or a 80 bar, I buy a drink, I speak to the nearest stranger—anything that can blow your candles out! [LAURA bends over the candles.]—for now- adays the world is lit by lightning! Blow out your candles, Laura—and so good-bye. . . . 85 [She blows the candles out.] The Scene Dissolves

The Longest Distance

Tom reflects on his departure from St. Louis after being fired for writing poetry on a shoebox lid.
He attempts to escape his past through constant travel, describing cities as dead leaves torn from branches.
Despite his physical distance, Tom finds himself haunted by sensory triggers that remind him of his sister, Laura.
The memory of Laura acts as an inescapable emotional anchor that persists regardless of his attempts to distract himself.
Tom concludes that the modern world is lit by the harshness of lightning rather than the soft light of candles.
The play ends with a final, symbolic severance as Laura blows out the candles, signaling the end of their shared reality.

I didn't go to the moon, I went much further—for time is the longest distance between two places.

784 TENNESSEE WILLIAMS | Scene VII AMANDA. That seems very peculiar TOM. What's peculiar about it? AMANDA. Didn't you call him your best friend down at the warehouse? 5 TOM. He is, but how did I know? AMANDA. It seems extremely peculiar that you wouldn't know your best friend was going to be married! TOM. The warehouse is where I work, not 10 where I know things about people! AMANDA. You don't know things anywhere! You live in a dream; you manufacture illusions! [He crosses to door ] Where are you going? TOM. I'm going to the movies. 15 AMANDA. That's right, now that you've had us make such fools of ourselves. The effort, the preparations, all the expense! The new floor lamp, the rug, the clothes for Laura! All for what? To entertain some other girl's 20 fiancé! Go to the movies, go! Don't think about us, a mother deserted, an unmarried sister who's crippled and has no job! Don't let any- thing interfere with your selfish pleasure! Just go, go, go—to the movies! 25 TOM. All right, I will! The more you shout about my selfishness to me the quicker I'll go, and I won't go to the movies! AMANDA. Go, then! Then go to the moon— you selfish dreamer! 30 [TOM smashes his glass on the floor. He plunges out on the fire-escape, slamming the door. LAURA screams—cut by door Dance-hall music up. TOM goes to the rail and grips it desperately, lifting his face in the chill white moonlight pene- 35 trating the narrow abyss of the alley.] [LEGEND ON SCREEN: "AND SO GOOD- BYE . . ."] [TOM's closing speech is timed with the in- terior pantomime. The interior scene is played 40 as though viewed through soundproof glass. AMANDA appears to be making a comforting speech to LAURA who is huddled upon the sofa. Now that we cannot hear the mother's speech, her silliness is gone and she has dignity and 45 tragic beauty LAURA's dark hair hides her face until at the end of the speech she lifts it to smile at her mother. AMANDA's gestures are slow and graceful, almost dance-like, as she comforts the daughter. At the end of her speech she glances a moment at the father's picture—then withdraws 50 through the portieres. At close of TOM's speech, LAURA blows out the candles, ending the play.] TOM. I didn't go to the moon, I went much further—for time is the longest distance be- tween two places—Not long after that I was 55 fired for writing a poem on the lid of a shoe- box. I left Saint Louis. I descended the steps of this fire-escape for a last time and followed, from then on, in my father's footsteps, attempt- ing to find in motion what was lost in space—I 60 traveled around a great deal. The cities swept about me like dead leaves, leaves that were brightly colored but torn away from the branches. I would have stopped, but I was pursued by something It always came upon 65 me unawares, taking me altogether by sur- prise. Perhaps it was a familiar bit of music. Perhaps it was only a piece of transparent glass—Perhaps I am walking along a street at night, in some strange city, before I have found 70 companions. I pass the lighted window of a shop where perfume is sold. The window is filled with pieces of colored glass, tiny trans- parent bottles in delicate colors, like bits of a shattered rainbow. Then all at once my sister 75 touches my shoulder. I turn around and look into her eyes . . . Oh, Laura, Laura, I tried to leave you behind me, but I am more faithful than I intended to be! I reach for a cigarette, I cross the street, I run into the movies or a 80 bar, I buy a drink, I speak to the nearest stranger—anything that can blow your candles out! [LAURA bends over the candles.]—for now- adays the world is lit by lightning! Blow out your candles, Laura—and so good-bye. . . . 85 [She blows the candles out.] The Scene Dissolves