THE BLACK STONES
CAST OF CHARACTERS IN THE ORDER OF THEIR APPEARANCE
CHORUS.
FRANK KIMBERLY.
JACK SANDERS.
ELIZA KIMBERLY.
JOAN KIMBERLY.
OWEN KIMBERLY
Several KIMBERLY CHILDREN.
PROFESSOR GEORGE CRAGEN, Ph.D.
THE BLACK STONES
CHORUS:
On the plains, golden-grained, of Kiowa County,
Where the Kansas folk thrive on Nature’s rich bounty,
The Kimberlys lived, and farmed the dark land.
They worked with Jack Sanders, their stalwart farmhand,
And their youngsters, all skilled with the shovel and hoe,
Who moved with the grace of the grain as it grows
As far as the eye can see . . . .
[Farmhands and children are hoeing in the fields. JACK SANDERS picks up a rock that he has hit with his hoe and pauses to study it; FRANK KIMBERLY approaches him.]
FRANK:
Jack, what in Creation are you up to now?
[Sees the stone.]
Oh no, not another one of those black stones!
JACK:
This looks just like the kind that Eliza showed me— See, it’s black, and heavy, and kind of burned-looking.
FRANK:
I know the kind, all right—Eliza’s got a mountain of them next to the barn. You needn’t trouble yourself about adding one more to the pile!
JACK:
But still, I promised Eliza that I would show it to her if I ever found one.
She says that they’re a special kind, that fall from Heaven like a gift of the Lord.
FRANK:
As if there weren’t enough stones on the earth already!
[Pauses.]
Well, I guess a promise is a promise, so set it aside for Eliza and let’s get back to work!
CHORUS:
On the prairie fields the earth unfolds
An autumn scene suffused with gold;
Bright meteors pierce the prairie skies
With tails aglow their fires die—
What in the heights so brightly shone
Becomes on earth a cold
black
STONE.
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[ELIZA and CHILDREN are putting away canned goods and jars.]
ELIZA:
Our processing’s done but the heat and the steam
Stay on in the room like a summertime dream.
The sulfurish smell of the cabbage we’ve canned
Grows so strong that it’s more than a person can stand,
But steel clamps on the jar lids will keep it contained
And the autumn days make it all mellow and tame
Be grateful, you children, for the black dirt below
For the horse and the plow, for the hand and the hoe.
JOAN:
In school today my sisters and I
Learned ‘bout the seashore and the ocean waves high—
How they thunder and crash,
All the boats to bits dash—
Why couldn’t we live there—why Ma, why?
ELIZA:
When the wind weaves its way through our ocean of grain,
Making waves like the waters when whipped by the rain,
Then your dad at the thresher’s a captain to me,
And the chaff is the foam frothing wild and free,
But no ocean’s as golden as our praire sea!
OWEN:
The schoolmarm taught us about the big range
Of mountains that tower far west of the grange —
How nothing can grow
Under all of their snow --
Ma, could we go there, d’you think we could go?
ELIZA:
When I look out upon the prairie so wide
And can’t see a thing but the earth and the sky,
Then I wouldn’t want those mountains a-sidling in
‘Cause two can talk quiet, but three makes a din,
And we need lots of room for to let God’s light in!
Now, all you children, to bed for your prayers,
I’m going outdoors to the fresh autumn air.
[Children leave—ELIZA goes out and shooting stars begin to flash.]
That professor I asked told me to stand like this
And look at Perseus, and then to make myself still as could be. . . .
Oh, there’s one!
And there’s another!
And now the sky is full of streaks of light!
CHORUS:
When the stars shine on high
Order rules everywhere,
But when meteors fly
Iron’s might fills the air!
Oh, Man, seek to unite
Blazing spark, shining star,
So to find what a bright
And bold being you are.
[FRANK enters.]
FRANK:
So, here you are Eliza!
Don’t you know that the cows never came back to the barn tonight?
ELIZA:
Why they’ll be bursting with milk! Is Jack looking for them?
FRANK:
Jack’s gone too!
I’ve sent the children to look for the cows, and I’m after Jack.
CHILDREN’S VOICES:
Here, Bessie! Here Flossie!—
FRANK and ELIZA:
Jack! Jack Sanders, where are you?!
[They wander across the stage calling out. JACK is discovered sitting on a rock.]
FRANK:
What the Devil! Jack, get up and get busy! The cows are gone, the farm’s in a shambles and you’re sitting down star-watching!
JACK:
I musn’t get up, Frank.
FRANK:
What?
JACK:
Remember, Eliza, a few weeks back I found a big black stone and came home to tell you ‘bout it?
ELIZA:
But by the time we went looking you couldn’t find it again!
JACK:
So you told me next time I saw it I should stay put, and even let the cows run off.
ELIZA:
But where is the dark stone you found?
JACK:
I’m sitting on it!
[He stands up]
ELIZA:
Saints preserve us! If that’s really a meteorite it’s bigger than the one I saw years ago, heading for a museum back east. Frank, get me a shovel!
FRANK:
Eliza, it’s nearly midnight, and the cows—
ELIZA:
Jack, grab a shovel!
JACK:
But Eliza, I’ve not had a morsel to eat all these hours—
ELIZA:
Fellers, let’s get out our shovels!
[They get shovels and start to dig around the huge rock.]
FRANK:
Don’t you worry, Jack.
When you get home Eliza will fix you a planet pie in a stardust crust!
ELIZA:
Let’s go back and hitch up the team. We’ll need all our horses to move this meteorite!
CHORUS:
Many harvests had passed and Eliza’s dark heap
Grew into a mountain, as broad as was steep
Of pitted and blackened dense shards.
In Kiowa folks thought it a strange landmark,
A pile so looming, so useless and dark
Grown up in Eliza’s barnyard!
Eliza wrote letters to schools near and far
To geologists, professors and astronomers
Describing her pile so high.
But none paid much mind to the handwritten pleas
Of this farmgirl without fame or college degree
And the years passed without a reply.
[ELIZA is pitching manure with her children. Her daughter JOAN enters.]
JOAN:
Mom, that professor feller is here!
ELIZA:
Tell him to come on out and join us!
[Professor CRAGEN enters.]
DR. CRAGEN:
Ah, Nature! What noble work!
What proud spirit to work the earth, to venture forth with open eyes—
[He steps on a rake and its handle hits him in the head.]
DR. CRAGEN:
Ouch!
ELIZA:
I’ll just finish pitching this manure, Dr. Cragen, and I’ll be right with you.
DR. CRAGEN:
My colleagues at Washburn College in Topeka were amazed at the sample meteorite you sent us—and as Chairman of the Geology Department, I have been authorized to examine your other specimens.
ELIZA:
Go ahead and examine, but you’ve got a long row to hoe!
DR. CRAGEN:
Is this what you’ve been describing? If these are genuine meteorites, you have the world’s largest collection—how did this come to be?
ELIZA:
‘Bout the same way as this hill of manure
Keep pitching every day and it grows high, that’s for sure!
Sometimes these dark rocks seem a lot like manure,
As if Heaven itself wishes to nourish or cure
The earth and its life with a gift, fresh and pure.
DR. CRAGEN:
A strange thought! But why would there be so many meteorites in such a small area?
ELIZA:
Well, some fields may need more help than others,
And the farmer is wise who practically smothers
His poor fields with lots of compost!
Around these parts! guess we need it most!
DR. CRAGEN [Musing]:
Perhaps if I lived here, amidst these broad plains,
Far from the gray spaces, gray faces, gray brains
Of dull students and duller professors,
I, too, might form such living thoughts.
In Nature’s school be newly taught
Of her wisdom become a possessor!
[To ELIZA]
I’ve bought some equipment, and I hope in these next days to examine your meteorites.
ELIZA:
I’d like to watch you, and I’ll join you right away, but I’ve still got more pitching to do.
DR. CRAGEN:
Can I help? I’d best use a shovel, for I’m sure that my load would fall through the spaces in the fork --
ELIZA:
Oh, it’s not that hard—here, I’ll show you!
[She helps him pitch.]
CHORUS:
Splitting stones, testing them, Dr. Cragen remained
Many weeks at the Kimberlys, and ascertained
That the dark stones were meteorites.
He was happiest helping with all the farm chores
And never complained of being too sore
To work there will all of his might
The scene now shifts to Washburn College,
Where learned men pursued true knowledge
The way Jack pursued runaway cows.
Here Dr. Cragen, sat wondering how
One farm on the earth, against all odds,
Could be so blessed by Nature—or God.
[DR. CRAGEN is looking through a telescope—then paces about the floor. He then looks through a microscope, and sits at his desk.]
DR. CRAGEN:
Two learned journals now lie on my desk:
One relates that, in the mountainous west,
A modern observatory may soon be erected
So the faintest stars’ light can be quickly detected.
The other reports that young Edison’s light
Will keep New York’s streets sun-lit
All through the night.
[Pauses.]
In the West, men now strain toward the heavenly heights,
In the East fire’s frozen to provide city lights;
In the Center—in Kansas—on the Kimberlys’ farm—
Only there pour down forces which bring us no harm!
There light becomes matter, most primal, pristine,
Self-sacrificed freely in forms crystalline.
Oh, Iron grown dark, from such radiant birth,
Bring stars’ levity to the denseness of earth!
[Looks through microscope again.]
Even my skeptical colleagues agree that these chondrite formations and Widmanstetter structures can come only from meteorites! So the same universities that once ignored Eliza Kimberly now will clamor to purchase her meteorites, and hail her as a scientific investigator—and she’ll go on, unconcerned about the fuss, working at her chores and raising her family. Irony—so much irony!
[The scene quickly shifts to the Kimberly farm. ELIZA is ironing napkins, while the children help set the Thanksgiving dinner table.]
ELIZA:
Ironing—so much ironing!
Well, this is the last of it, and our Thanksgiving turkey will soon be fit to serve...
[To FRANK.]
But look at that, Frank—Jack Sanders has run off and left his broom standing right up against the table!
FRANK:
Jack’s returning now—just you wait, and I’ll give him a piece of my mind!
JACK:
Frank, Eliza— Postmaster Wilkins just rushed this—letter to you —special delivery, it said!
FRANK:
Let me see it, Jack.
[Reads aloud.]
Dear Kimberlys,
Forgive me for not writing sooner, but the attached list will show how busy I have been. You will find listed by number and type every one of the meteorites in your extensive collection, and next to it the amount of money bid by the particular institution or museum.
Let’s look at his list. Hmmm . . . .
Number 8630 -- Nickel/Iron ...... Washburn College . . . . . $50.00
Number 8632 – Iron ...... The Museum of Natural History . . . . $100.00
Number 8781 - Iron, Chromium ...... Harvard University. . . . $360.00
Eliza, it just goes on and on like this! Here, I’ll finish the letter:
As you can see, the complete sum of over twenty thousand dollars will be more than enough to pay off your mortgage, buy good farm equipment and care for your family’s needs for many years. But more importantly, your persistence and your enthusiasm for these “Black Stones” has added greatly to this knowledge we will have about the Heavens. Oh, and one last item. I have not been the same since leaving your farm. The dusty corridors, the musty books, the tired lifeless faces of the professors—how I have longed for the breadth of the Kansas prairies, the good hard work of your family. I expect to come on Thanksgiving Day, and look ahead to studies of a deeper and finer kind.
Your obedient servant, George Cra—
ELIZA:
Look who’s here!
[CRAGEN enters.]
DR. CRAGEN:
My dear, dear friends –
[He steps on the broom and gets hit in the head.]
DR. CRAGEN:
Ouch!—
[He reels back and walks unsteadily to the table.]
EVERYONE:
Happy Thanksgiving Day!
THE END
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