Jo’s Quantum Cafe

Each play I see Scott perform, he just gets better and better.

Friday was the first performance of Shenandoah and we got to the theater shortly after 7. Kari and I would attend tonight. Richard and I had plans to attend Sat., but Kari called for a ticket to that performance as well as she wanted to join in meeting with Scott afterward.

Our seats were in the center orchestra, row F, on the stage right aisle and the acoustics were fantastic at Ford’s Theatre in Washington, DC. Even though we were fairly close to the stage, I still used binoculars and Anita, to my right, also had a pair. It brought Scott’s facial expressions into full view. Partway through, Kari pointed out that she thought the mics were hidden in clothing but the binoculars showed them to be taped to scalps and hidden in hair. You really had to look closely to find them.

The opening number was uniquely costumed and I found it amazing that they could carry that off. This play, the way it has been staged, requires imagination. Props move in and out with the actors, sets are sparse. Jeff Calhoun said later on that he didn’t want anything on stage that didn’t have a need so there’s nothing extraneous. And it works! Concentration is on the story and the action, not on the set. The set is there to enhance the story, not the other way around. Early on, I was a bit distracted by this moving of props, but shortly forgot to pay attention to that.

The dinner scene was mostly pantomimed with a little food actually in place. Again, although food may have been added in subsequent performances, it didn’t bother me that there wasn’t any food. We all knew they were eating.

After the show, I stood at the stage door to find out about the items for autographing and how I was going to get them to Scott. I’d gotten to the theater early to talk to the folks at the box office but they didn’t know anything and the box office would be closed on Sat. until noon. I was supposed to bring everything to Scott in the morning.

I waited until Scott was through meeting with folks (those who had seen the play, wanted an autograph, and then left) and got the logistics on drop off and pick up of the articles to be signed for us. Then Scott left and I went back to the hotel with Ann M. and Anita.

Saturday morning, I waited half an hour in the lobby of the hotel, collecting items to be autographed, then took everything over to the theater and knocked on the back door. The guard let me in when I identified myself. Meanwhile, that morning, I got a call from Margaret saying that the guard had my name and was expecting me. He wasn’t going to let me in until I gave him my name.

I showed him a note I’d written to Scott thanking Scott for his extra act of kindness and signing it from his fans. It was held onto the bag with a sticky note and I wanted to be sure Scott received it. From the theater, Richard, Kari and I walked on to the White House for the tour.

Saturday evening, I got to the theater around 7, went straight to the guard, and picked up the signed articles. In the morning, the guard was all business. But when I picked up the articles, he was smiling and happy. He said he watched Scott sign the items and Scott got a kick out of some of the articles. I’m sure he was particularly thrilled with Maryse’s caricature and her Shenandoah sketch. I had left a sharpie with Scott in case he didn’t have one but mine was blue and he used a black one so he didn’t need mine. Hey, if you haven’t gotten one of those 99 cent keychain sharpies, they are great to have. That way you always have a pen handy.

Before the Sat. performance, I distributed the signed articles. Richard and I were sitting stage left on the center aisle, but the sound wasn’t quite as good over here. Kari was up in the balcony. There were some interesting changes to this evening, especially in the curtain call. Tonight, the actors were arranged in a vignette and came to center stage in rows for their bows. Last night they all came out at once. Scott, as always, acknowledged the musicians and thanked them.

Sunday morning I called Margaret to give her the logistics I’d learned this weekend so she doesn’t have trouble next weekend.

Sunday, Kari left to return home and Richard and I stayed to attend the reception on Monday.

I knew the story of Shenandoah before I saw the play in Washington, DC, because I had seen the movie with James Stewart when it first came out in 1965. This, however, was my first time seeing the play. My reaction, both opening weekend and Scott Bakula’s final weekend, is that this Ford’s Theatre production blew my socks off and it can hold its own with any play currently on Broadway.

Friday, March 17, was the first performance of Shenandoah and this wasn’t even opening night. That would come on Wednesday the 22nd. This night, there were still costumes to get, glitches to fix, numbers to tweak. Still, almost everything worked well and the glitches were easily overshadowed by the performances and the power of the story. There wasn’t a weak member of the cast. By Saturday night, several of the glitches-like a rifle that didn’t fire until several seconds after the trigger was pulled-were fixed.

Every performance of a play is a unique experience. Because it is live, anything can happen, and how the performers respond to these variations becomes part of the performance. When I returned to DC at the end of April, the drifter could not get his knife out of his boot for the Sunday matinee and pantomimed the scene with his finger. I know. I was sitting in the first row. Did that take away from the drama of the moment? Not in the least. If anything, performances were more intense and the audience was even more involved with the production.

The following description applies to Jeff Calhoun’s production of Shenandoah with italics indicating commentary and comparisons to the original Broadway version.

Set in Virginia, Shenandoah is the story of a widower trying to hold his family of six sons and a daughter together while the War Between the States rages around him. Charlie Anderson is father to oldest son, Jacob, married son James, Nathan, John, Jenny, Henry, and youngest, twelve-year-old Robert (the Boy).

Act I

The first act is lively, full of wonderful song and dance numbers, but the staging brings the audience into the war early on. Robert (Boy) and his friend, 12-year-old slave, Gabriel find a confederate cap lying beside the spring. Boy puts it on, setting off a chain of events that are an integral part of the story.

The opening number is a rousing song, Raise the Flag of Dixie, with Union and Confederate troops taunting each other inside a huge picture frame. The Shenandoah hills roll beyond the framework, and like the war itself, cannot be contained. At the bottom of the frame, the words, “The Nation Mourns,” constantly reminds us that these are difficult times.

The Broadway production of this number called for a large chorus of men-some Union, some Confederate-to sing to each other from opposite sides of the stage. With a smaller stage and cast, director Jeff Calhoun, accomplished this beautifully by having half of each costume grey and half blue as the actors turned their left or right sides toward the audience. This ploy also served to emphasize the concept of brother fighting brother and father fighting son.

The music fades and the soldiers leave the stage as Charlie enters from over the hills to speak to Martha, his dead wife. He removes his hat to place flowers atop a gravestone that rises from the floor. Charlie tells Martha the world is not like she left it. He remembers her quoting from the bible that “a house divided against itself cannot stand.” “Well,” Charlie tells her, “we’ve got some disagreement in our own house now, our own family.” Despite this Charlie promises he will keep the family together. He returns his hat to his head and slowly walks back upstage across the hill, disappearing behind the rise. The gravestone retreats into the floor.

The soldiers return to continue the opening song. Guns and cannons are now heard as soldier shoots soldier and bayonets stab, all in slow motion as the song continues. While this is going on, the Anderson clan is getting ready for Sunday morning breakfast, setting up the table and benches and food, as dead bodies scatter on the stage. As the Andersons sit down for the meal, the dead bodies remain on the stage, a constant reminder that this Sunday meal is anything but normal. Charlie says the blessing and they begin to eat but there’s an abnormal silence to the meal and Charlie notes, “I seem to detect something at this table today that’s not being said.” This opens the way for James to argue that what concerns Virginia concerns him.

James tells Charlie it’s just a matter of time before the fighting reaches the farm. “If those fools want to slaughter one another, that’s their business, but it’s got nothing to do with us. Not one damn thing has it got to do with us,” Charlie tells him angrily. “Stand and show your colors,” Charlie sings. “Let’s all go to war. The Lord will surly bless us, I’ve Heard It All Before.”

In the 1975 production, the song went all the way through without interruption. In Jeff Calhoun’s staging at Ford’s Theatre, when Charlie sings, “The dream has turned to ashes; the wheat has turned to straw. And someone asks the question, what was the dyin’ for? The livin’ can’t remember,” the dead soldiers rise from the stage and exit to, “the dead no longer care.”

The song returns to the refrain with James stalking away from the table. He turns to argue but Charlie stops him. “Don’t tell me ‘it’s different now.’ I’ve heard it all before.”

In the Broadway production, the scene faded to black, as most scenes did then, to set up for the next scene. Under Jeff Calhoun’s direction, Boy and Gabriel are center stage talking about what church is like while the scene sets up for the inside of the church behind them. In 1975, the Sunday service is played out inside the church with Reverend Byrd giving his sermon from start to finish. In Jeff’s staging, parts of the Reverend’s sermon are spliced inside the dialogue between Boy and Gabriel about church.

Boy tells Gabriel that preachers are no fun and the way they talk about Hell, it makes him think that maybe they’ve been there. The spotlights come off the Boy and Gabriel and highlight the Reverend as he tells what his sermon could be about, but isn’t, while the cast stands motionless. When Boy and Gabriel resume talking, so does the church setup.

During the church scene, it is apparent that Charlie is there only to fulfill Martha’s wishes. The parishioners sing Pass the Cross to Me. Charlie sings only one line of the hymn, at Jenny’s urging. The service is over and the Andersons begin to file out as the hymn continues. Boy runs off after services to join Gabriel for fishing. The final two verses of the hymn, included in 1975, are omitted.

“Pass the Cross” continues to play in the background as Sam, a Confederate soldier sitting in the back of the church, stops Jenny after service to ask if he can court her. Nathan and the boys listen in and Nathan teases Jenny with an exaggerated moaning noise, as Sam tells Jenny he will be leaving soon. The scene ends with Jenny chasing her brothers off the stage. Boy and Gabriel are at their favorite fishing hole then the conversation comes up again about church. Boy describes what church is like and, for him, how boring it is. “If I thought I didn’t have to go to church, I might change places with you.” Gabriel responds, “I don’t think you’d be much good at bein’ a slave. It takes practice.” In a duet, Boy and Gabriel wonder, Why Am I Me? At the end of this song, Boy runs home with the fish he caught. Gabriel returns to his massa.

All through the Ford’s Theatre production of Shenandoah, small changes were made to the script and the characters that added measurably to the overall enjoyment of the performance. For instance, there is a line in Why Am I Me? in which the Boy sang “somebody puts the who into folks like droppin’ a stone in a lake.” The music accommodates with a falling inflection that ends with the sound of a rock hitting water. This idea wasn’t written in the script, but little touches like this heightened the performance.

Charlie Anderson is standing by the well near the barn when Sergeant Johnson and his patrol come by to recruit the Anderson boys for service. Charlie refuses, but when the Sergeant wants to see the boys, Charlie calls them out one at a time. They all show up—including Boy—holding rifles aimed at Johnson’s group. Outnumbered and outgunned, Johnson leaves without a fight. In this production, the Boy gets the last word with “Don’t be a stranger!” Added by Calhoun, this line always got a huge laugh from the audience. Charlie admonishes him with a look and leaves to tend to the crops.

A conversation between Nathan and John immediately follows:

John: “You know…something just occurred to me.”

Nathan: “What’s that?”

John: Well, I understand Pa and all that but…I’ll bet if we did get into this war, we’d be hell!”

In Jeff Calhoun’s staging of this conversation, the parts were switched with Nathan saying John’s lines and the word Hell emphasized with slamming a crate onto the stage. It played better this way because Nathan leads off the song, Next to Lovin’ (I Like Fightin’), a rollicking, high-spirited song-and-dance number
performed by the brothers.

During this number the sons, full of mischief, tease Boy by grabbing his cap and tossing it from one to another. (An interesting scene has been added by Jeff Calhoun. Instead of the song being sung straight through, the boys interrupt their high jinks as Charlie is spotted coming from the field with a  wheelbarrow. The boys pretend that they are out of breath from all the hard work and need to take a break. They add two heavy sacks and a saddle to the barrow. With another admonishing look at each son, the audience knows Charlie isn’t fooled as he staggers offstage with his load in silence.

The song resumes with Jacob and John singing “easy going, that’s my style. Never frown when I can smile.” The audience is so captivated by the Anderson boys’ dance downstage, they are oblivious to the porch scene being erected in full view behind.

As the music fades and lighting changes to twilight, Charlie sits down in his rocker and Boy leans against the fence post. They are discussing the day’s work and play-wrestling, when Sam and Jenny appear beyond the porch stage left. By now, Charlie and Boy are lying on the porch; Charlie points to the stars as he cradles Boy’s head on his left arm, and the young couple doesn’t know other ears are listening to their conversation.

Jenny tells Sam he hasn’t said a word in a long time. Sam explains that nothing’s wrong but he doesn’t know what to say. Actually, he knows what to say—he rehearsed it to the moon, and it sounded fine; he said it to the trees, and it sounded even better; he even practiced to his horse—but now he can’t remember the words. Jenny tells Sam in song, “Try your poetry on me, I can be wooed and won.” Shy Sam still doesn’t respond and she sings, “willin’ or not, I’ll Be Over the Hill.”

During the song, Charlie, not really standing up, slides from the ground into his rocking chair. Boy slides over to the fence to see more. Sam tells Jenny he has something he really wants to say to her, but as he stumbles for the words, Charlie strikes a match and lights his cigar, alerting the couple that they are being watched. Sam, staring at Charlie, asks Jenny if they can walk somewhere else and exits. Charlie flutters his fingers in a goodbye gesture. Jenny turns on her Pa with an angry, “Willin’ or not I’ll be over the hill,” and stalks off after Sam.

Boy wonders what Sam was going to say. Charlie tells him that he’s going to miss Jenny. The Boy asks, “Is Jenny going somewhere?” Charlie tells him to get used to the idea because his sister’s ripe. “You mean like a peach?” the Boy asks. “Just like a peach,” Charlie replies and sings, The Pickers Are Comin’.

Charlie sends Boy to bed. Boy wishes Charlie good night. Charlie then puts out his cigar, rolls up his sleeves and removes his vest. As the music continues from Pickers, a rooster crows and horses neigh, the color of the far-off hills changes from night to dawn, and Charlie turns upstage to greet the morning.  The same backdrop was used throughout the play with the lighting creating the different time of the day, or representing the mood (as when the sky was red during battle).

The sons come on stage, and a Confederate Lieutenant approaches the porch. He asks after Sgt. Johnson, learns that the Sergeant and his patrol left the farm without a fight, even though there could have been one. The Lieutenant informs Charlie that the patrol was killed next to their south boundary, and with the parting words, “Welcome to the war, gentlemen,” they leave.

James pursues his argument with Charlie about what he intends to do. Charlie yells at him that James is “on the verge of vexin’ me awful bad” when Boy yells “Pa” for the second time. Charlie’s anger turns toward his youngest until Boy tells him that a group of men are coming from the horse pasture. The  group is led by Tinkham—a horse thief, and Mr. Carol—a Federal purchasing agent seeking horses for the Cavalry. James tells them the horses are not for sale.

Things reach a boil when Mr. Carol calls the Andersons ‘yeller’ and Charlie stops James from throwing a punch. Charlie throws the punch instead and Mr. Carol draws his gun, which is quickly confiscated and passed along to Jenny, standing on the porch. Mr. Carol charges Charlie and a fight ensues. At one point, Charlie pulls Boy from on top of a man who is on top of John. He hoists Boy up with one arm around the youngster’s waist. With his foot, he pushes the man off John, who is gasping for breath. Charlie sets Boy on his feet and straightens John’s glasses. Mr. Carol calls Charlie a coward and the fight resumes until Jenny fires Carol’s gun into the air. With an earnest tone (and a deadly grin), Jenny tells Mr. Carol that, “If you animals don’t leave this farm this minute, I’m going to shoot you stone dead.”

Charlie gingerly takes the gun from Jenny and sticks it back in Mr. Carol’s belt and they leave. The Boy is sitting on the fencepost with his legs wrapped around Tinkham’s throat. Tinkham is still struggling to break free of the hold, when Charlie calls to the Boy. Reluctantly, he lets go. Charlie tells Tinkham, “You are the only man I know who started at the bottom and came down in the world.”

This scene in the Broadway production was just like the movie—Jenny and Anne stand on the porch with rifles and after Jenny fires hers, she switches rifles with Anne, the empty rifle for the loaded one.

James begins his argument with Charlie again. Charlie storms off the stage telling James he’ll fight any man who gives him provocation but he’s not about to declare open season on strangers. Once gone, James tells the others Pa isn’t fooling him—he and Pa are like two peas in a pod. James breaks into the refrain of Next to Lovin’ with Jenny and the boys joining in. The Broadway production had the beginning of this refrain sung by John instead of James.

Charlie returns to Martha’s grave. He sings in Meditation that sooner or later they will be calling him a traitor, her friends and his. As he speaks, he comes downstage and the grave is no longer visible. He remembers “how it used to be when it was only you and me, Martha.” The song names all the children as they were born. As Charlie sings, the children come on stage with parts of the bed that they assemble behind the picture frame, ‘upstairs’ in the house. The bed will be part of the next scene. First there’s “Jacob and James,” who assemble the bed frame. “Nathan and John” bring in the struts. “Got a Jenny and a Henry now” who bring in the mattress. “A lovin’ wife with child again” and Charlie thinks he “should sleep in the barn.” The last child, Robert, slides in the steps to the ‘house.’ Charlie then leads them all downstage singing,

“This land here is Anderson land,
by the strength of my hand
and the sweat of my brow,
for as long as the Lord will allow.”

As Jenny exits the lights reveal the parlor around them. It is now evening in the Anderson house and everyone takes a seat in a chair or on the floor. Nathan and Robert are playing checkers, Anne is knitting and instructing James on the stitches, and Charlie is reading a newspaper and John a book.

Jenny enters with Sam and tells Charlie that Sam would like a word with him. Giddily she announces, “I’ll be going upstairs now. Good night,” and climbs the steps to plop on the bed. Sam stands awkwardly looking around and finally asks Charlie if he could have a private word with him.

Anne is first to realize Sam’s intention and tells James it’s bedtime. James replies a bit densely that it is only seven o’clock. Anne kicks him and James understands it is time to leave the parlor. With Anne’s shooing, the rest of the family also leaves. Robert is the last one out and as he passes Charlie’s chair, he states, “The pickers are here, Pa.”

Charlie has difficulty hiding his laughter and lifts the newspaper. The scene that follows is a comedic exchange between Sam and Charlie as Sam asks for Jenny’s hand. Charlie asks him why. “Sir?” Sam frowns. “Why do you want to marry her?” Charlie asks. “Because I love her, Mr. Anderson,” says Sam. “That’s not good enough,” Charlie tells him, and then tries to explain what taking care of a woman means, but Sam just doesn’t understand. Charlie finally tells Sam to be good to Jenny or he’ll come after him. Sam asks, “Then you have no objections, sir?” Charlie tells him, “I didn’t say that.” It’s enough that Sam has permission to marry Jenny as he charges out of the house with a loud whoop of joy.

Toward the end of Act I, Sam and Jenny are about to be married. Anne is helping Jenny dress. When Jenny asks about fights, Anne tells her they are about the little things, but she explains to Jenny that it’s the differences that make people right for each other. Anne sings, “He is the left hand, I am the right, he is the full moon, I am the night.” The song continues with Jenny joining into the ballad, We Make a Beautiful Pair.

Down in the front yard, Sam continues the song, but he is so flustered, the words just won’t come out and the Andersons wonder if he will make it through the ceremony. Charlie shakes his head in dismay. Then Jenny comes through the front door and Charlie goes to help her down the steps. When Sam sees Jenny, he’s finally able to sing with her the last refrain of the song. This is a departure from the Broadway production. In the 1975 version, the bride and groom sang “Violets and Silverbells” as they were married, but the number was entirely omitted from the Ford’s Theatre production.

At the end of the service, as Reverend Byrd pronounces them man and wife, a corporal interrupts the congratulations with orders for Sam. Sam tells Charlie he will return as soon as he can and leads Jenny off for a private goodbye upstage. Charlie asks Reverend Byrd how he feels about the war. The Reverend tells Charlie his oldest son is buried somewhere in Pennsylvania at a place called Little Round Top near Gettysburg. His youngest came home with consumption and won’t live to see Christmas. A third son rides with General Forrest, but the Reverend doesn’t know where. He tells Charlie this is the best he can answer.

This scene also departs from the 1975 production. Originally Charlie’s conversation with Reverend Byrd took place before the wedding. With the omission of blackouts for the scene changes and the elimination of Violets and Silverbells as the wedding song, Calhoun managed to trim 15 minutes from the script with no loss of substance. For modern-day audiences accustomed to watching films with quick intercuts, the tightening improved the flow immensely.

As Sam leaves and Jenny returns to the group, Anne comforts her. But Anne’s labor begins and James carries her into the house. Charlie tells Jacob to take their fastest horse and ride for Doc Witherspoon.

As Jacob starts to run off, he turns and asks what to tell the Doc. “Tell him?” Charlie shouts, coming back down off the front steps to push his son in the right direction, “Tell him nothin’! When I send for him, he knows!”

Everyone runs into the house, leaving Robert and Gabriel in the yard talking about babies. Boy doesn’t see anything special in this event.It’s just a baby, as he and Gabriel take off to check their rabbit traps. Jenny shoos the rest of the mob out of the house for being in the way, and Charlie sings, “What’ll ya wager he’ll wear britches, I’m gonna holler It’s a Boy.” Again, a difference between the two productions is that in the original, Charlie sang the song alone. At Ford’s it became a duet, with Charlie singing, “figures to be like me,” and James exclaiming, “Lord, help him!” James also sings the second stanza, “I’m about to be born again, to see my very first day.”

Jenny interrupts the song to announce, “It’s a girl!” All the boys rush inside to see, with James tossing Charlie a flask on the run. Charlie is stunned. He continues the song, more softly at first, “pour me a drink my head is spinnin’.” He takes a swig from the flask and ecstatically exclaims, “I gotta celebrate a girl!”

His joy is short-lived however when Gabriel rushes in shouting, “Mr. Anderson! They done took the Boy.” Charlie doesn’t comprehend Gabriel’s shouting at first and tells him to slow down. Gabriel stammers again that “they done took the Boy.” Charlie rushes to stage left to look for Boy, beginning to realize that something is dreadfully wrong. Returning to Gabriel, Charlie grabs the child asking, “Gabriel, where’s the Boy?” Charlie asks him three times, each time stronger. Gabriel pulls back in fear, finally stammering that Yankees told the Boy, “You come along with us, Rebel.” “But why?” Charlie asks. “Because he’s wearin’ that little gray cap,” Gabriel tells him.

“Now it concerns me,” Charlie tells his family. Shouting orders to his sons, Charlie sends them to get the horses and gear ready. Jenny tells Charlie she’s coming too. Charlie tries to say no, because she’s a girl. He doesn’t win the argument when Jenny informs him she can outride and outshoot anyone. James tries to apologize to Charlie for their arguments. Charlie tells him he understands. If he wasn’t like himself, he’d be like James, Charlie says. He climbs the stairs to the bedroom to see his new grandchild before leaving.

“I sure hate to be rushed when I’m looking at something that pleases me,” Charlie tells Anne, and he asks if they’ve picked a name yet. “Her name is Martha,” Anne tells Charlie. Charlie is deeply moved by this. He tells Anne he’s proud to have her in the family. She’s a good woman. Charlie heads back downstairs, grabs his sleeping roll and rifle and leads the family over the hill shouting, “Let’s Ride” just as James returns with a canteen of water for him. James is left behind to care for his wife and daughter.

Act II

Act II opens with Gabriel at the Anderson farm trying to fly like a bird. Anne, who is gathering laundry from the clothes line, asks if Gabriel is feeling all right. Gabriel tells Anne he’s free. Yankees have burned his plantation and the slave quarters, and he’s no longer property. Gabriel is soaring but Anne is worried, though she tries to hide it from the boy. He says that the “Yankee mens” told him he could fly like a bird if he wants to, now that he’s free, but he tells Anne he still hasn’t left the ground. She tells Gabriel there are lots of ways to fly without ever leaving the ground. “Freedom is a state of mind.”Gabriel will be heading south to find his parents, asking her to tell the Boy goodbye for him, when they find him.

James comes out to Anne to help bring in the laundry. Anne asks him to get some extra water because Reverend Byrd is coming for dinner. She asks James to move little Martha’s crib, but he informs her that he already moved her to Robert’s room where it’s cooler. Anne takes the laundry inside and James goes to the well for water, as a drifter comes over the hill shouting a greeting. He asks James for water and James obliges. But when the drifter learns James is alone with his wife, the drifter slits James’ throat, then heads for the house and Anne.

After Gabriel leaves, but before the arrival of the drifter, James and Anne discuss getting a place of their own. While this dialog appears in both productions, the Broadway original had Anne and James reprise Violets and Silverbells at the end of the scene. But just as in Act 1, this song was eliminated from Ford’s production.

The original script calls for three marauders to approach the farm. In the death scene, the only marauder who speaks spins James around and stabs him. James then sinks to the ground. Jeff Calhoun staged this scene with only one drifter. The drifter slams James’s head against the hoist rail of the well, stunning him. Then pulling a knife from his boot the drifter slits James’s throat.

The setting has now completely changed; it’s dark, a train whistle is heard in the distance and crickets are chirping. Charlie and the family are setting a log trap on the tracks to stop a Union train. They’ve spent almost two months on the road looking for Robert. Everyone is tired, including Jenny. She has a bad feeling that maybe Robert is dead and this war will kill them all. “No!” Charlie yells. “Don’t you think that way!” He tells her Papa’s Gonna Make it Alright in a tender ballad that ends with the arrival of the train. Once the cars are opened and all the prisoners are freed, they discover Robert isn’t there, finding Sam instead. Charlie tells his sons to burn the train, much to the dismay of the engineer. Charlie tells the man he runs a sad train.

The impressive staging of this scene was indeed a Broadway-worthy special effect. The original  production never attempted to show an actual train. Although logs were carried across, the train and tracks, as well as the burning, were all suggested to be taking place offstage. Here at Ford’s, the tracks were painted in muted tones at the bottom of a silk scrim hanging just inside the frame, as if they were running directly toward the audience from upstage. The log trap was brought on and situated center stage in front of the frame and tracks. The train, with its one single headlight growing larger and brighter as we hear the train approach, was a projection on the silk scrim. As brakes screeched and steam hissed from under the “wheels,” the “train” stopped and the sons carried real torches behind the scrim. Smoke rolled onto the stage and with additional lighting the train actually appeared to be on fire.

One shell-shocked corporal asks Sam, “Is the war really lost?” Sam answers by telling him to go home—“Go home and live.” The corporal, an Irish tenor, laments The Only Home I Know, a hauntingly beautiful ballad that wrenches at the heart strings. The other freed prisoners join in the song.

As the corporal’s song continues stage right, Charlie and the boys are setting up a tent by lantern light stage left. Once erected, Charlie enters with the lantern and his shadow can be seen on the tent wall as he moves about.

The sons are puzzled by all the activity in the tent, commenting that Pa has been moving about a lot. Charlie comes out and calls Sam to him. “You too, Jenny,” he adds. He tells Sam that it’s customary for a gentleman to carry his bride across the threshold. As Sam and Jenny enter the tent, the boys try to sneak peeks under the sides of the tent wall until Charlie says, “What are you all lookin’ at?” and they scatter to their bedrolls.

Jacob pleads with Charlie, “Let’s go home, Pa.” But Charlie tells him they found Sam, they’ll find the Boy. Jacob offers to stand first watch while the family sleeps on the stage right rise, far from the tent.

All is quiet while Jacob stands guard until a voice in the distance calls out. Jacob raises his gun in that direction and a shot is heard. Yelling “Pa!” Jacob collapses to the ground. Charlie rushes to him, cradling him in his arms and rocking him, telling him to hold on. Jenny sobs that Jacob is dead, as she kneels by Jacob’s head. The Confederate sniper realizes his mistake, that Jacob isn’t a ‘blue belly,’ “he’s just a man.” Charlie doesn’t accept the sniper’s apology. He rises, grabs the rifle and hip fires killing the soldier. After he shoots, he runs toward the soldier, the butt of the rifle raised to strike again. Nathan blocks him, grabbing the rifle as he and Charlie struggle. Nathan yells at him that the soldier is already dead, “you already killed him, Pa!”

Still enraged, Charlie screams, “Yes I killed him! What did you expect me to do? Why’re you all staring at me like that?”

Nathan explains to Charlie that the sniper thought Jacob was a soldier and that he said he was sorry. Charlie cries that sorry won’t help Jacob, and Jenny sobs, “Papa, killing him hasn’t helped Jacob.” His anger spent, Charlie tells the family they are going home—so he can bury Jacob next to Martha. Charlie pulls Jacob to his feet with Sam pushing from the back, and Charlie lays Jacob across his right shoulder. Slowly, Charlie carries Jacob off stage right. One of the released prisoners crosses behind Charlie, slowly carrying the fallen sniper off in the other direction.

Martha’s grave rises from the stage just behind the frame. Nearby Reverend Byrd hammers two rustic crosses for James and Anne into the ‘ground’ as the corporal reprises The Only Home I Know.

A baby is heard crying as the family return s to their home. Now holding little Martha, Reverend Byrd approaches Charlie and places the baby in hi s arms. Jenny leaves Sam’s side to seek comfort in Reverend Byrd’s arms. Tearfully, Charlie tells baby Martha it’s been a long time since he’s held a baby and one day he’ll tell her why he left—why he had to—or at least thought he had to .

Jeff Calhoun staged this scene in the front yard of the Anderson home, but in the 1975 production  Charlie is in the bedroom holding baby Martha in his arms as Sam and Jenny look on. In a portion of the speech omitted from the DC production, Charlie tells the baby he keeps thinking that if he hadn’t left, everyone might still be alive.

Jenny takes Martha from him and sings from Papa’s Gonna Make it All Right. “Papa’s gonna scare off the summer storms, no rain will fall on your head. Baby’s gonna be all safe and warm, tucked in your
very own bed.”

As she croons to the baby, Charlie and the boys approach the small Anderson farm cemetery upstage behind the frame. Charlie takes the wooden mallet from one of the sons and hammers a third cross—for Jacob—into the ground. The boys wander off, and Jenny and Sam exit stage right with the baby. Charlie remains alone at the graveside to talk to Martha about the war (Meditation II) and why he had to search for Robert, leaving James and Anne behind. He tells Martha that, like every war, the undertakers are winning it.

“The dream has turned to ashes
The wheat has turned to straw
And someone asks the question
What was the dying for?
The graves are filled with answers
Each one just and true
For all men finally reason
What else could I do?”

Charlie asks if only he knew what Martha was thinking, and as if to answer, church bells begin to peal in the distance. “You’ll never change, will you, Martha?” he asks, shaking his head. He then calls out to the family, “Why didn’t anyone tell me it was Sunday?”

The next scene originally calls for Reverend Byrd to be in church finishing his sermon as the  congregation sings Pass the Cross to Me. Charlie enters with the family and the voices peter out as everyone waits for the Andersons to take their seats. The singing resumes as the Reverend welcomes the Andersons home, shaking Charlie’s hand. Suddenly the doors of the church open; the Boy hobbles in and announces, “I’m here, Sir.” Charlie provides a welcoming embrace as the hymn joyfully continues and the cast make their bows.

Once again, Calhoun’s tightening seems to make a more effective ending: From the graveyard, Charlie starts down toward the house to get the family ready for church when there is a call from beyond the hills. “Pa.” It sounds like the Boy, but Charlie no longer believes Robert is alive. He shakes his head as if to clear away the ghosts.

Charlie continues walking as the shout comes again, but louder. Charlie turns to see a tattered youth standing on the rise. “Boy?” he questions, running up the hills toward Robert. But Charlie stops short, tentatively reaching out his hand to see if the mirage is real. “I’m home, Pa,” Robert tells him and Charlie snatches the Boy into his arms, tearfully repeating, “My God. Oh, my God.” He calls to the others, and they grab and embrace Robert, as Charlie stands apart, watching, a man forever changed.

Final note: Both Peter Udell (Lyricist) and Phillip Rose (one of the authors of the book) attended the play and according to Scott were pleased with the changes Jeff Calhoun made to the production.

The Ford’s Theatre cast:
Charlie Anderson……………………. Scott Bakula
Jacob Anderson ……………………… Aaron Ramsey
James Anderson………………………Andrew Samonsky
Nathan Anderson ……………………. Rick Faugno
John Anderson……………………….. Bret Shuford
Jenny Anderson ………………………Megan Lewis
Henry Anderson………………………Ryan Jackson
Robert (The Boy)……………………. Kevin Clay
Anne, wife of James ……………….. Garrett Long
Sam, suitor to Jenny ……………….. Noah Racey
Gabriel………………………………….. Mike Mainwaring
Reverend Byrd &Mr. Carol…….. Christopher Bloch
Corporal (Irish tenor)………………. Geoff Packard
Sergeant Johnson ……………………. Peter Boyer
Lieutenant……………………………… Evan Casey
Tinkham………………………………… Stephen F. Schmidt
Drifter …………………………………… Richard Frederick