The Three Christs of Ypsilanti

a play by Dan O’Brien

Representation: Beth Blickers Abrams Artists 275 Seventh Avenue 26th Floor New York, NY 10011

646.486.4600 Beth.Blickers@abramsart.com

Draft 6/1/08

Characters:

Dr. ROKEACH. Early 40s. LEON Gabor. Late 30s. JOSEPH Cassel. Late 50s. CLYDE Benson. Close to 70. African-American. Miss ANDERSON. Late 20s.

Time:

1959-61. Place:

Ypsilanti State Hospital, Ypsilanti, Michigan. Specifically, we’re in one room, with one table and four chairs, and a portable reel-to-reel tape recorder.

Notes:

The Three Christs of Ypsilanti attempts a faithful adaptation of the psychological study of the same title by Dr. Milton Rokeach (Knopf, 1964). In order to find a more cogent dramatic structure I’ve had to alter the chronology of certain events somewhat, which has of course changed the nature of these events to a certain extent, and in the process no doubt changed the nature of these characterizations. Throughout I’ve tried to keep the dialogue of the men (and woman) in their own words, as recorded in Dr. Rokeach’s book, and in the case of the “three Christs” I feel I’ve been largely successful. A special thank you to Dr. Ball-Rokeach for the opportunity to adapt her husband’s work for the stage.

LEON: I love truth even though it hurts. JOSEPH: If it hurts too much, man is wise to turn away from it. LEON: That’s your belief, sir.

—Transcripts, undated.

1: “That’s Your Belief, Sir” (A high-ceilinged, rectangular room off the main recreation hall of building D-23,

Ypsilanti State Hospital in Ypsilanti, Michigan.

One shadeless window, the lower portion of which can be raised only slightly for ventilation. A large dirty mirror beside that, roughly the size of the window. On the wall, a phone. There is only one door, on a swinging hinge, with a small, cracked glass panel in it. Four men sit in four mismatched, folding metal chairs. On the table nearby: a glass pitcher full of water; four spotted glasses; and a small, portable, reel-to-reel tape recorder. ROKEACH presses Record as lights rise . . . He’s about forty, wears a suit and tie of conservative cut and color, a gold wedding band. The chair he sits in is subtly fancier than the others: some upholstery, maybe, arms. ROKEACH speaks for the tape recorder, at first:)

ROKEACH

Welcome, gentlemen. We find ourselves, this morning, in a room off the main ward, that is D-23, of

Ypsilanti State Hospital, in Ypsilanti Michigan. The time by my watch is 10:00 a.m. The date is the first of July, 1959.

Now, as you may know, the three of you have been brought here for a reason. An investigation, if you will. That may take the better part of the next few months. —Or longer, we’ll see! It’s entirely up to you . . .

As you can see I’m using a tape recorder. I trust none of you will object to this? Do any of you object?

(No one responds.) ROKEACH (cont’d.) Good. Let’s begin then, shall we. I know you’ve all met each other before, over the years. But I understand also that you don’t like to spend much time together . . . Which is understandable, I assure you!

But I’m new here, so humor me. (No one responds.) ROKEACH (cont’d.) My name is Dr. Milton Rokeach. You may call me Dr. Rokeach. (JOSEPH raises his hand high in the air.) ROKEACH (cont’d.) Yes.

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(JOSEPH appears to be in his mid- to late-50s, of medium height and build, balding, with some very dirty, misshapen if not altogether missing teeth. He’s an impish man, ready with an easy, wide grin. While he will claim to be English, his accent is distinctly American, with a hint of the Canadian perhaps. He wears a dirty shirt and dirtier still pants, with pockets that bulge full of books, magazines, letters, cigarette papers, tobacco, pens, pencils. Large stained rags he uses as handkerchiefs. He wears three pairs of socks: yellow, pink, yellow, in that order. On a chain, he wears a pair of women’s horn-rimmed glasses without lenses, to which he’s attached a lorgnette. He often holds the lorgnette to his face, like he’s doing now:) JOSEPH

My name is Joseph Cassel. ROKEACH Is there anything you’d like to tell us about yourself, Joseph? JOSEPH Yes. I’m God.

(An awkward silence; at least for the other two men, who shift uncomfortably in their chairs, or snort, or blink too much.) ROKEACH

All right. Who’s next. Don’t be shy. You’re safe here.

CLYDE My name’s Clyde Benson. ROKEACH Clyde. CLYDE That’s my name straight. ROKEACH Thank you, Mr. Benson.

(CLYDE’s around 70 years old, African-American, over six feet tall, though seated now. He’s quite thin, though in apparent good health for his age: a tall, lean, wiry build. He’s dressed like a farmer, in dungarees, a rough-hewn shirt. Yet there’s something the slightest bit dapper about him. He carries an old tobacco pipe neatly

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in his breast pocket, which he will occasionally take out and smoke, or simply chew on the stem. Always he speaks in a low, mumbling, resonant voice. He is very hard to understand sometimes.) ROKEACH (cont’d.)

Do you have any other names, Mr. Benson? CLYDE Well, I’ve got other names, but that’s my vital side . . . And I made God five, and Jesus six. ROKEACH Does that mean you’re also God? CLYDE I made God, sure! —Made it seventy years old a year ago today! —Shoot! I passed seventy years old! LEON —Sirs, if I may interrupt: ROKEACH Of course. And you are—? LEON It just so happens, Mr. Rokeach, that my birth certificate says I am “Dr. Domino Dominorum et Rex Rexarum, Simplis Christianus Pueris Mentalis Doktor.” Here is my card:

(He produces a card with a flourish, with some handwritten words on it, presumably “Dr. Domino” etc.; and he hands this card over to ROKEACH to read. LEON looks a lot like Christ, in fact—at least the Hollywood kind. Long hair, bearded. Somewhat fair-complected. He’s in his mid- to late-30s, tall, thin, an ascetic face of intensely earnest expression.

He sits with great dignity, some rigidity, staring straight ahead with his hands in his lap, right palm over left, as if he’s about to receive the Sacrament. He wears a white suit, somewhat yellowed with age and wear. He speaks eloquently, unhaltingly, often unceasingly.)

ROKEACH (reading the card) . . . What does all this mean, Leon?

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LEON Please, sir: call me Rex. ROKEACH “Rex”—? LEON It’s Latin. ROKEACH I don’t know that much Latin, I’m afraid . . . LEON And you call yourself a doctor! (LEON chuckles disbelievingly.) ROKEACH I’m not a psychiatrist, or a psychoanalyst, Rex . . . My training’s in social psychology—personality theory to be precise. I’m interested in why we believe what we believe. How we change what we believe . . . I’m not here to cure you. (The three men appear entirely uninterested.) ROKEACH (cont’d.) Anyway, Rex. My file says your name is “Leon Gabor”— LEON Oh, no, sir: that’s my dupe name. ROKEACH What’s a “dupe name” . . . ? LEON The name given me by the Old Witch Mother. Among others.

(ROKEACH returns the business card to LEON.) LEON (cont’d.) The translation from the Latin, sir, for those who care to know it, reads roughly: “Lord of Lords, King of Kings, Simple Christian Boy Psychiatrist.” (CLYDE laughs and shakes his head.) ROKEACH Does that mean you’re a psychiatrist, Rex?

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LEON I’ve learned a few things in this place. ROKEACH And you’re also Christ? LEON I am the reincarnation of one Jesus Christ of Nazareth. That’s true. And I salute—I want to say this—I do salute the manliness of Christ.

(JOSEPH has been raising his hand again, enthusiastically.) ROKEACH Yes, Joseph. JOSEPH I don’t get it. He says he is the reincarnation of Christ. ROKEACH That’s right. He does. JOSEPH —That’s not me! —I’m God-Christ-Holy Ghost-in-one, and if I wasn’t by God I wouldn’t lay claim to such a thing.

I know this is an insane house— LEON Please sir— JOSEPH —and you have to be careful— LEON Do not generalize, sir! JOSEPH —I know who I am! LEON —Christ, will you let me get a word in edgewise? CLYDE Don’t you use my name that way! JOSEPH I do my work! defending the stronghold of the English! That’s the only thing one can do in this place is carry on—

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LEON (standing) —Mr. Cassel, please!

(LEON has their attention now. He sits down immediately, speaking calmly:) LEON (cont’d.) I don’t agree with the fact that you were generalizing and calling all people insane in this place. There are people who are not insane. Each person is a house. Remember that. JOSEPH Each person is a—? LEON House. Home. —Or a building. JOSEPH This is an insane house nonetheless— LEON My belief is my belief, sir. And I don’t care for your belief. —All I’m stating is what I believe. JOSEPH I know who I am—! LEON And I do not want to take that from you, Mr. Cassel! —Please! You can have it! it’s yours! ROKEACH . . . Clyde, what do you think of this disagreement?

(CLYDE mumbles unintelligibly at first.) ROKEACH (cont’d.) Mr. Benson?

CLYDE . . . takes a heck of a lot to rock my boat . . . ROKEACH Well now, I’m having a little trouble understanding you— CLYDE There’s been a heck of a lot of money coming down from heaven! and from the old country, and from the sea of heaven . . . that’s truckloads, trainloads, boatloads . . .

It’s seventy-seven hundred cars a mile that runs from Upper Stock Lake—God marked eight of his trails himself!

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(LEON laughs.) CLYDE (cont’d.) —What’s so funny, birdy-burger? JOSEPH I know why the old man’s saying all that. ROKEACH Why, Joseph? JOSEPH He has it on his mind. That’s all. He’s trying to discharge it. It’s fine! as far as I’m concerned . . . He’s trying to get it out of his mind! ROKEACH Get what out of his mind? JOSEPH What he said. You know: he made God, was God, etc.— CLYDE —Don’t you pull that on me because I will prove it to you! JOSEPH I’m telling you I’m God! CLYDE You’re going to do just what I tell you to because I am God Almighty! —I’m your father! I’m Yahweh! LEON People use the same Bible, sir! But some of them worship Christ instead of worshipping God through Christ! CLYDE —Well we worship both! LEON I don’t worship you! —I worship God through you, through him and him— CLYDE You oughta worship me, I’ll tell you what! JOSEPH —It’s all right, there’s nothing wrong! —It’s sweet! It’s swell!

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LEON (overlapping) —I will not worship you! You are a creature, sir! You better live your life and wake up to the facts! CLYDE —I am living life! You don’t wake up! —You can’t wake up! JOSEPH (quite loudly) —He raised me up! —He raised me up in England! (Pause. JOSEPH has their attention now.) CLYDE . . . Who did? JOSEPH My father did. ROKEACH . . . What does that mean, he “raised you up,” Joseph? JOSEPH Well, I died. Then I got reproduced by him. CLYDE Oh, so you’re a re-rise then . . . ? (JOSEPH nods his head solemnly.) CLYDE (cont’d.) Well now, see, I didn’t know that . . . He is a re-rise from the cemetery! and I did not even know that . . . !

(The three men sit back in their chairs, calmed somewhat—somehow—by JOSEPH’s disclosure.)

ROKEACH Now, Joseph, as I understand what you’ve said just a moment ago: you’re God, Christ, and the Holy Ghost— JOSEPH That’s right. ROKEACH Nobody made you, you made the world, because you’re God.

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JOSEPH Thank you. That’s me! ROKEACH That means everybody was made by you? Everyone in the entire world, since the world began? JOSEPH Righty-o! ROKEACH Clyde, did you make this world, too? CLYDE Well now—I shoot quicker than the Devil . . . I don’t monkey with no patients . . . LEON Mr. Rokeach, I defer to the habeas corpus face . . . ROKEACH What’s a habeas corpus—? LEON Why, it is the cosmic living parchment that states a man is who he is, why he is what he is. There is no escaping the habeas corpus face. And my habeas corpus face says I am a Christ. ROKEACH “A” Christ—? JOSEPH —There is only one God and his name is me! LEON —I will acknowledge that these gentlemen are hollowed-out instrumental gods. Lower-case “g” gods. Sir, I will go thus far. (Pause.) ROKEACH . . . What’s an “instrumental god,” Rex, are you one? LEON I am. As are you, Mr. Rokeach. It’s my sincere belief to respect the Devil for who he is. (Another pause.)

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ROKEACH You realize you keep calling me “Mr.” Rokeach. (Pause.) I am a doctor . . .

(LEON speaks simply and suddenly to ROKEACH:) LEON Do you think Christ is with us in this room, sir? (Another pause.) ROKEACH I think it’s possible . . .

Doesn’t it say somewhere in the New Testament that after Christ died he walked among his followers—?

JOSEPH

I was murdered, by the way. ROKEACH

(overlapping) —and they “knew him not”? That story of the men who walked with him on the road from Jerusalem: they didn’t know who he was until they broke bread with him. Then he disappeared. LEON Luke 24:13-35. JOSEPH I thank you. I wrote that. LEON Not bad for a man with a Jewish nose! —Are you, sir, of Jewish extraction? ROKEACH I am. So what? LEON My uncle told me about your case . . . And sincerely I believe he’s right: you are the reincarnation of one Jewish High Priest named Caiaphas. —It’s befitting of you, you with the Jewish nose . . .

And your foster father was a donkey. —However, I do believe, sir, you have a human soul!

—May I be personal again? My uncle said to me: “Doesn’t he have a large head on his penis?” My other uncle said, “Yea, that is true.” And it’s also true a donkey has a large-headed penis. In the Philippines once I was a soldier. I was walking on cobblestones and a man with a cart and donkey passed by, and that donkey, due to the fact that he hadn’t had any release—he had a hard-on! —Man! It had a piece as long as my arm, hitting up against

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his stomach . . . and I couldn’t help but admire the fact that this donkey prayed in a cold, physical fashion. (JOSEPH giggles somewhat.) ROKEACH I’m afraid I don’t know how you want me to respond to that, Rex . . . (LEON just smiles and looks straight ahead.) ROKEACH (cont’d.) Are you trying to upset me . . . ? (After another awkward moment:) ROKEACH (cont’d.) I’d like to ask you all another question, if I may:

What do you think you’ve been brought here for? what purpose? (JOSEPH raises his hand. LEON gestures regally as if to call on him:) LEON Speaketh: JOSEPH To iron things out. To help convince these two that they’re crazy, so that I can do my work. —And then to just laugh it off, laugh off the opposition. —Have fun!

(JOSEPH laughs.) ROKEACH You think you’ve been brought here to have fun? JOSEPH Why not? LEON (to Joseph) This is a hospital, sir . . . ROKEACH Does that mean you’re unwell somehow? because you’re in the hospital?

JOSEPH —I haven’t had any hallucinations, if that’s what you mean. Nobody says nothing to me about being insane. I’m logical.

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ROKEACH What do you mean by logical, Joseph? JOSEPH Saying the right things at the right time. —I certainly haven’t been insane in quite a while! (LEON laughs at JOSEPH, who is taken aback:) JOSEPH (cont’d.) You don’t believe God could be in this hospital as I am now? LEON I believe that God is in this chair. He is in my dung and farts and burps— JOSEPH (laughing) —That’s crazy! LEON You, sir, are a false individual! I’ve got news for you: you’ve made my uncle’s dung list. JOSEPH I came here in 1940 and now it’s 1959—I certainly deserve to be dismissed from here . . . LEON I don’t think they do that, Mr. Cassel. JOSEPH So then I just say, fuck all! —I’m going back to England and rule the world! (CLYDE growls at JOSEPH’s language, apparently. LEON turns to face JOSEPH suddenly, aggressively:) LEON Mr. Cassel: I’d like to give you some advice: the Fourth of July is not far away. And there’s going to be a hell of a lot of fireworks. There’s going to be a hell of a lot of dung carried out of this place. A hell of a lot of bodies . . .

(JOSEPH shrinks back, obviously disturbed. He stands, if he’s not standing already, begins pacing the room. He opens the window to its six inch limit.)

ROKEACH . . . Joseph? Has Rex frightened you somehow?

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CLYDE He’s ain’t alive. Neither of them is. Machines in them are talking. Take the machines out and they won’t say nothing! . . . You can’t kill the ones with machines in them—they dead already. ROKEACH Who’s dead, Clyde? CLYDE Both of them is. ROKEACH Who killed them? CLYDE Well, Nelly shot Leon. LEON I don’t know no Nelly . . . CLYDE And Joseph’s wife shot him. JOSEPH (turning from the window) That is at least partly true. ROKEACH Where are these machines located, Clyde? the machines that speak for these men?

(JOSEPH has drifted closer to the circle again. CLYDE reaches out now and pokes the side of JOSEPH’s prodigious stomach. JOSEPH squirms away, giggling again.)

ROKEACH (cont’d.) Joseph, would you mind unbuttoning your shirt . . . ? (JOSEPH unbuttons, shyly.) ROKEACH (cont’d.) Would you mind if Clyde felt around in there, for a machine? JOSEPH Fine by me . . .

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(CLYDE feels around. JOSEPH suppresses laughter.) ROKEACH Can you feel it, Mr. Benson? CLYDE That’s funny . . . must’ve slipped down where he can’t feel it . . . (JOSEPH buttons up again. Somewhat bashfully, JOSEPH rejoins the group, sits down.) ROKEACH How do you explain Clyde’s extraordinary claim, Joseph? that there’s a machine inside you? JOSEPH I can’t! ROKEACH There’s no machine inside Joseph: is there, Clyde? LEON —I believe, sir, that these three men claim to be Christ in order to gain prestige. And because of prejudice, jealousy, hatred, negativism, duping, interferences, and electronic imposition. ROKEACH You said “three” men— LEON Joseph, I am beginning to see, is actually a fallen angel—

JOSEPH

I thank you sir but— LEON

—and the reincarnation of the Englishman, Captain Davy Jones. JOSEPH Thank you! Gee! LEON —Captain Jones, will you get up there and talk about your subconscious institution pertaining to your character? Therefore, do you have any past subconscious reflections that you wondered about pertaining to? (JOSEPH stands up.)

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ROKEACH Are you making fun of me, Rex? JOSEPH (with a smile) I am simply God and I work for the cause of the English! (JOSEPH salutes.) ROKEACH If Joseph is the reincarnation of Davy Jones, is that to say he’s not God? LEON He’s an instrumental—don’t you try to upset him again! Please! —My salute to you, sir, in as many times as you are a hollowed-out instrumental god! (LEON stands and salutes JOSEPH six times.) JOSEPH (bowing) Quite right . . . (JOSEPH sits again.) ROKEACH And Clyde? Who do you think he is really? LEON I’m not sure . . . possibly a buccaneer-general, a reincarnation of King Mathias, a pirate . . .

How many times have you been hollowed out, sir? CLYDE Six. LEON Do you understand that this particular place has the electronics in many instances to depress, fool, confuse, bewilder, and dupe people? CLYDE I did not know that . . . ROKEACH What do you mean by electronics, Rex? LEON (overlapping) Yes. And because of this you can come to feel you’re somebody way up—

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CLYDE That’s right! I do! LEON —But this isn’t you, Clyde! When you feel this way: it’s initiative in the wrong direction! CLYDE I thank you. I made God. ROKEACH —Does that mean you made Rex too? CLYDE —Is that any of your business? —It don’t concern you, birdy-burger! I worked myself up to a saint! I got the light around my heart, that is Jesus, right? ROKEACH But Rex says you’re a pirate— CLYDE I don’t care what Rex says, he’s a gosh darned Catholic! LEON I am genuine Protestant, sir. Held under duping to a certain extent by the Catholic Church until I broke away. CLYDE You’re a Catholic! LEON No, sir! —I believe in truthful bullshit! CLYDE —Don’t you say shit to me, I’m too good! LEON There are two types of bullshit, sir! Genuine is truth, and must be compared to dung: looks like it, smells like it, and acts like dung too. When you put it on soil, truth makes things grow! ROKEACH Which word would you prefer he use, Clyde? CLYDE I don’t want to hear no junk . . . LEON Have you ever been a farmer, sir?

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CLYDE Well, I guess I am a farmer! —And you’re a city pinhead! (JOSEPH laughs.) CLYDE (cont’d.) (threateningly) I know your psychology, boy. You’re a knick-knacker in your Catholic school in North Bradley, and in your education—I know all of it already! LEON Dung is a holy word, sir! Dung is in the Bible! (He intones like a bell:) Dung-g! Dung-g! Dung-g-g-g! (CLYDE draws back his arm as if to hit LEON:) CLYDE I’m gonna kill you, you son of a gun—! LEON Calm down, Mr. Benson! You can not help it if you’re under the influence of electronic duping!

(CLYDE sits back in his chair, grumbling.) LEON (cont’d.)

. . . Do you have a cigarette paper for me, Captain Davy Jones? (JOSEPH gives LEON a cigarette paper from out of one of his pockets. While LEON rolls a cigarette:)

LEON (cont’d.) . . . Adam was a colored man . . . because his body was taken from the rich brown mud.

Did you not know that, Mr. Benson? CLYDE —Adam was a white! —I made him when I was one year old! LEON I wish to mention while we are talking about Adam that he is reincarnated, and he happens to be my foster brother. —And he’s a colored boy! CLYDE —You son of a bitch! —There ain’t no such thing!

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LEON You watch your language, sir! JOSEPH —I worked for England! I saved the world! CLYDE He’s an educated doggone fool! LEON Adam is the color of freshly formed dung, sir! CLYDE (standing) Adam is a white boy, the first child of light! JOSEPH It’s sweet! It’s sweet! It’s swell! LEON (overlapping) Will you kindly sit down, sir! —I believe in truthful bullshit but I do not care for your brand of shit, sir! CLYDE —Shut up, you bitch! LEON I am not a bitch, sir, I am the Lamb of God! (CLYDE slaps LEON’s face.

LEON sits motionless, hands limply in his lap. The tobacco he was rolling is scattered in his lap, on the floor.

Slowly, LEON turns the other cheek to CLYDE, as if offering it to be struck now too.

Pause. As ROKEACH pulls CLYDE away, which is easy, as CLYDE appears stunned, gone limp himself.

CLYDE sits again. After a moment, so does ROKEACH, attentively.

LEON speaks quietly at first:)

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LEON (cont’d.) I know what’s happening here. ROKEACH What’s happening . . . ? LEON You’re using one against the other. And that is mental torture. ROKEACH What do you mean by “mental torture”—? LEON Using one against the other, trying to brainwash us through the backseat driving of electronic voodooism. You shouldn’t change a mind. (Short pause.) LEON (cont’d.) This isn’t a hospital in the true sense. It is noted for brainwashing . . . CLYDE (quietly) I did not know that . . . ROKEACH Are you angry with me, Rex? LEON You come under the category, sir, where a person who knows better and doesn’t want to know is also crazy to the degree he does not want to know. (Pause.) ROKEACH Do you think I’m crazy? LEON I understand you would like us three to become a melting pot pertaining to who we are. But as far as I’m concerned I’m myself, he’s him, and he’s who he is.

ROKEACH You’re telling me that Joseph is Christ, if he says he is? LEON That’s my belief, sir.

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ROKEACH And are you also Christ? LEON That is my belief, sir. ROKEACH —And Clyde? LEON I do not wish to take that from him! ROKEACH That makes three Christs, in one room. (Pause.) How is that possible? JOSEPH —There is only one! That’s me! (CLYDE mumbles angrily.) LEON (quietly) There will be a showdown, Mr. Rokeach. You’re going to become dung when my uncle gets through with you. And I don’t mean maybe.

I was sent to this place to find out some information. And the breaking day isn’t far away . . .

I’m telling you sincerely, man to man: I don’t hate you, I feel sorry for you. I believe I’ll have the privilege of making out the corpus delicti papers on you. I will request that of my uncle right now. (He closes his eyes.) ROKEACH Are you threatening me, Rex? (JOSEPH laughs.

LEON opens his eyes again. He stands:) LEON Sirs: on the merits that pertain to the personality I have cited my side and I do not care to repeat and repeat. —But pertaining to truth it pays to repeat sometimes: —you, sir, are a dupe man against me! ROKEACH —Nobody is against you, Rex!

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LEON Yes, sir! The indirect psychology—with that I can agree! JOSEPH —Awfully nice! LEON But no, I will not compromise. I believe that right is right and wrong is wrong. I have told the truth pertaining to who I am, and who these gentlemen believe themselves to be. That’s all I know. That’s my belief, sir. Good day.