America on stage; "Metamora" by Robert M. Bird

Because I'm white from the white laces of our father but when we are going out of the sun. The town lies flat in the prairie west of the Mississippi. Main

Street has a brown ribbon of wagon ruts and potholes farmhouses stores and stables. Channel the mud slicked street behind an apron of plank sidewalk. In the night the houses are dark and empty. Half way down the street the opera house is crowded but close Think of the whole town and half the countryside seal the hog. I have a thousand pair of eyes watch the stage and Edwin Forrest America's most famous actor the play Metamora. It's all about Indians. It has been a smash hit in New York and Philadelphia in this prairie town Opera House tonight. Sit indian killers their wives and children. For some it's the first play they have ever seen. For others the stage of the Opera House is an old friend. This is the spoken chronicle of affronting town and the visit

of Edwin Forrest in Metamora Ireland. Program for all of America on stage. The character of a nation as seen through its America on stage is produced by the Wisconsin state broadcasting service under a grant from the Educational Television and Radio Center in cooperation with the National Association of educational broadcasters consultant for the series. Jonathan W. Kervyn professor of speech at the University of Wisconsin and a specialist in the American theater. Here to introduce the program Professor curve and in the play Metamora or the last of the Wampanoags the noble savage

comes to the center of our early American stage. No stranger to readers of James Fenimore Cooper his novels poets and song his praise is an artist that painted him in his natural habitat. Explorers and travelers had observed and recorded his trades. It was inevitable that he should also have become a favorite character of our drama. Playwrights found the Indian a ready made hero. They were quick to exploit his surefire romantic appeal. His lonely magnificence natural dignity the curious beauty of his tribal rituals. Of all the Indian heroes to carry a plate of Fame none could hold a candle to the chief Metamora season after season in the person of actor Edwin Forrest. He still is the dominating symbol on theatre stages across the country of the noble red man. Intermission time at the Opera House. The crowd is swarmed from the hall and stands

on the narrow plank sidewalk outside of the theater waiting for the second act. There are farmers traders merchants wagon drivers truck coated Eastern travelers. The air is gray with tobacco smoke and the spittle of tobacco juice ripples in the stagnant pools of Main Street mud water. The town is raw. A man's credentials are his thoughts and the people speak their mind. Maybe I should let you go off my mouth about this here play. I don't know anything about plays or theater. I'm a farmer. Then one all my life. But I paid the price and so I guess I got a right to criticize as much as any eastern theater go and do. I heard this place was about Indians and so I came. Well I didn't see no indians I'm staved what I saw was a mouth full of five syllable words from that actor Forest. He wasn't talking like no Indian he was talking like some college professor. Indians I knew could no

more than scream and grunt they could get drunk and slit your belly. Maybe they got a new breed of Indians back east where that feller wrote plays college professor Indians in this territory I had never seen and he had so that's all I got to say. I drove my buggy 15 miles to be here tonight. I wanted my two children to see it. It's their first. I'm really excited I think Mr. Forrest is magnificent about the handsomest man I ever did see and how he carries himself. Well I suppose the part I like best is between Mr Forrest that has made him more you know the Indian chief he plays and the scenes with his Indian Queen. It's very romantic even if they are Indian. There's nothing like a good romantic story. My name's judge Sloan. Now I like a good play as well as the next man but a plane is a public event so there has to be some considerations to think of

and I was elected to maintain law and order to make this town safe for God fearing citizens. I ain't ashamed to tell you my gavel banged out the verdict of a dozen strung up in it. How else are you going to make them understand our laws. The Indians have a code of their own a code of killing and violence. Now this place is a public event and as such has a moral obligation to the people of this community. This year Forrest person stands up on that stage as an Indian mind you and speaks as if the white man's civilization is a thing corrupt bankrupt and deceived. Why any actor who could utter such scathing language and with such vehemence must have the whole matter red hot. I insist upon forest believes in that damned Indian speech and it is an insult to the whole community. As publisher editor printer and reporting staff of The Gazette That's our weekly

I want to say that it's an honor to have Mr. Forrest still the finest actor in America. Visit us in the American classic Metamora. The review I shall give it in next week's Gazette will be MOST lot of Tory I assure you. The people of this town are prejudiced against the Indian especially the Sioux Indians Metamora is no Sioux is a Wampanoag and furthermore the action takes place 200 years ago not on the plains but on the Atlantic shoreline actually Metamora is a fable. Neither he nor his tribe ever existed. So there's no reason for this community to get excited about a fable. The interior of the Opera House is a prairie version of the Eastern theatres a conglomeration of imitation baroque and gothic The stage is wide and the oil lamps cast a flickering glow on the painted backdrop. That is a scenery. Metamora stands stage center poised and defiant as the English settlers come to arrest him.

But I struggle yet he's not satisfied. Right. Hovering over your head they stretch out their shadow and ask for vengeance. They shall have it all wrapped up the wrong all upon you like a cataract that duffers the upper arm the microcosm the water who start you from your dreams at night and the road out to the west in the north and in the south. Cry of vengeance. First if you have straw and groan under your feet no more secure don't go I smite you on a sudden power. Why.

That was quite a second act curtain. I've seen this play before because I happen to be in town on my way to San Francisco on business and I'm caught between stages stagecoaches that is as I remember quite clearly the night when Metamora had its world premier at the park the New York City. It was a good many years ago eighteen point nine Yes that was it. In that year forest at the tender age of 23 was one of the leading actors on the New York stage and I recall he was a magnificent figure of a man tall strong and handsome well the next broad now a powerful voice. I suppose it's odd that I recall a particular feature of his physique he had extremely muscular calves. Well he's still an imposing mountain of a man of course is a bit

paunchy in the middle now but well well while the Indian Metamora didn't win out. He died a noble death and this I can assure you there is no active in the American theatre that can make the act of dying more noble. Who then can Edwin forrest when Forrest dies he dies downstage center and no bit player anywhere in sight. I understand he'd like to drop it from his repertoire but the public just won't allow it. Well well power to the man. That I should recall his magnificently muscled. I've been manager of the Opera House since it was built 10 years ago in 1855 theatre is more than a business with me though. Actually it's my whole life but I have to tell you the truth. I I booked Metamora but I'm not particularly happy about it. Oh I have nothing against the plates. It's good solid stuff. Maybe a little melodramatic for these

days but the audience out in this section of the country aren't too sophisticated. They like their heroes noble and their villains black. No I'm talking about the star forest. He knows the magnitude of his reputation and so he insisted on um listen to this. He insisted on one half of the gross receipts of the performance. He gets one half. The other is divided amongst all the other actors on the management now. It is that Mr. Forrest has made a fortune in the theatre but he never lets up on those terms. I tell you this star system this system where one man controls the destiny of every performance is an extremely evil and dangerous situation. If such stars as Forest continue in this mercenary manner I predict the disappearance of our provincial theatre. Frankly I don't know what can be done about this dilemma is it. If my patrons here I have refused to let Mr Forrest play here they'd stone me. When Mr Forrest does

play I have excruciating pains in my pocketbook. Fortunately Mr Forrest in Metamora draws more people than Mr Forrest playing Shakespeare. Oh I know Mr Forrest is our country's greatest Shakespearean actor. But frankly there are few stories that interest the general public more than those about Indians. Perhaps it's just evolved and will pass. Theatre is a very strange business. Backstage there is a little stage magic in the opera house. The strong odor of kerosene lamps the grease paint and sweat stained costumes with tiny dressing room round faded tintype and scarred program notes of a hundred plays are smeared across the broken plaster but tired grotesque made up places of the stock company players reflect themselves in the cracked mirrors the raucous voices of the ticket holders are dim and there is no magic in the room. There is only the unreal forms

of the actors last week it was Cincinnati this week. The tall grass country next week the bedlam that is the harbor of New Orleans. I suspect you will find actors like me all over the country. I've never been a leading man. I never expect to be one. There is my business and I've been at it a long long time I was in my prime when Forrest was just a beginner. In his prime he was a great talent but even then he was not the God he conceived himself to be or people say yes. Now I want to take this play Metamora back in 1820 80 advertised in the paper that he was going to make to play writing. You offered $500 for the tragedy in which the hero would be an Aboriginal of this country an actor friend

of mine John Augustus Tony Wroten Metamora. That is with Forrest at his back he did Forest analyzed every scene every speech in order to make his part more spectacular Kerridge playwriting that's comical. He didn't want a drama. He wanted a series of forensic poses. I expect guys like him broken down Act spending his last days in a flea bitten stock company out in the wilderness. Well that's what I am. The door to the left is the star's dressing room. It is well lighted and well swept Edwin forest sits waiting for the fifth and final act. His features are smooth his body barely swelled by the prime years.

The theater has been good to me and I hope I have been good to the theatre. I have made many friends and if you were to me and I imagine Metamora has been the most successful. The story is simple the sentiments expressed are noble. The Indian chief an object of wonder. The play is many years old now and the road is like a trusted compassionate companion. Yet let me state that I do not conceive the play to be of exceeding literary merit. Of late I often wish that none but children would ever come to see me in it. After playing it for 40 years I find it a bit embarrassing to face an adult audience with it. Still there is a dramatic power to me especially the last scene where Michael Moore and his queen. The last of the race before the onslaught of the white invaders. Some say the play is an ancient relic.

Now perhaps like Edwin Forrest himself an old player played in the grand manner yet the play and you know modesty the players still have their magic. I shall never forget her performance of this play at the a large delegation of western Indians were seated in the boxes. I really don't know what brought them to Boston but there they were. And then the closing scene they identified themselves so closely with Metamora that they rose and chanted a dirge in honor of the death of the great chief. It is a memory I shall carry with me always. And now I must excuse myself that closing scene is almost upon us in the opera house. Half a thousand pairs of eyes look at the stage the evening has dragged fled for others outside the horses stampin the modern code the prairie wind cuts the midnight silence the black clouds are sure in the spring

storm. Inside there is the silence of half a thousand watchers. The last scene of Metamora starring Edwin Forrest. Metamora his own nation. We alone in the land of all the pale faces are all around us and they trade in blood. The Blazers are burning with fractures awfully in the darkness of their path. We destroyed not vanquished. We are no more. Yet we are not the Okie dust not here the power of the white man. He may come here there in his might and slave with me he may seize the hand to the fire country by these arms that have so often clasped me in that embrace of love scourged I saw fresh in the hour of his rack and forced me to carry burdens like the

beasts of the field. No we have not met. We cannot fly for the fall is all about us. We cannot fight for this is the only weapon I have saved from the stripe of blood it was my brother it has tasted the white man's blood and reach the cold heart of the tradeoff. It has been our truest great it is our only trace are telling me the fourth time. And I read your savviest and I'm yucky. I look up through the long path of the thin air and I think I see Yari in bar non-word to the land of the happy where the fair hunting grounds. No no storms or snows. Then where the immortal braids piece in the aisles of the giver of good. Look up words on the Yogi the Spirit of God I

murdered father back and the oh I will go to hear you and brace me not me ok. It was like the first two gave me in the days of our strength and joy they are gone. Arc in the distant would I pay plea hear the cautious tread of men they are the promised mommy Okie now home of the happy years made ready for the. She has no life and is bonded. Previously your is the snow she died and she died. Let me taste the lips as I. Know lots of these red spots to

your study prize. No numbers overpower me and try to race around though friends visit me I defy you to come and this true night that has tasted the Foul Blood of your nation but not always read with the purest of mind with the grass by Strong is what it flashed in the blades of your burning dwellings was lifted over the fallen in battle fire upon it. No Saul I am weary of the forty dollars in it. I would not touch upon my lips to save my life. Your soldiers. My question is on you know you white men. May the Great Spirit cause you when he speaks in his war voice from

the clouds. Mary. The last of the line poet discussed beyond your your graves on the graves of your children. He looked at the Red Man's outraged and made a little bundle Panthera how lower your precious Wagners banquet for the destroyer was. So it took the crane I call him but the guards serve Metamora stays with the white man. I die. My wife my queen my number. The players over the rigs and wagons have drifted through the ruts and mud and out of sight the pools of Main Street water are glass and the last

flickering lamp in the Opera House has been snapped. The manager has just finished putting the receipts in the safe. The actors are in the hotel across the street some asleep others in the saloon downstairs. Last week Cincinnati this week the tall grass country next week the bedlam that is the harbor of New Orleans. America sees Edwin Forrest starring in Metamora. There are. There there and. There they are. They're. Going to the. Going. Going. Here again is Professor Jonathan curve and Mark Twain once spoke of the

romantic Indian who people so many American stories and plays as belonging to an extinct tribe that never existed. Spectators in the theater however seldom quibble about accuracy. The idealized figure of Metamora served well enough for all but the isolated few. As a true child of nature his appeal was greatest. And here is a peculiar irony. Precisely when the nation with roads canals and river bolts and mushrooming frontier settlements. Was moving ever faster toward the conquering of nature and in the process of course conquering the Indian too overwhelming him in battle seizing his hunting grounds and pushing him into ever smaller pockets of reservation land. The Black Hawk War of 1832 typifies the pattern. When the saw in the Fox under warrior a Black Hawk who incidentally shared many of Metamora qualities outnumbered by the white militia. Ten to one were

pursued to the eastern shore of the Mississippi. Realizing that the fight more was useless. The Indians raised a flag of truce. It was ignored. As Blackhawk reported the incident in his autobiography. The whites paid no attention but commenced slaughtering them as many women as could commence swimming with their children on their backs. But a number of them were drowned and some shot before they could reach the opposite shore. Hate for the Indian who resisted the white man's encroachments contempt for him in defeat. These must be reckoned the prevailing sentiments of the real life story. But that all saying the only good Indian is a dead Indian did not hold true in the theater. Where he was very much alive. As the popularity of such a play is Metamora testifies theatre audiences could see the Indian from another perspective so long that is as he kept his place in a romantic play. In the theatre the American cheer the Indian as hero and accorded him not

hatred but affection not contempt but admiration. Whatever the destiny of the Indian and life is destiny on the stage was to become a stereotype the greasepaint hero with the actor's mournful voice to sound his Elegy in tones reminiscent of James East Burns poem on the wars of King Philip. With his lines about the death wail of a departed race long banished him so honored in their grave. Their story lost a memory I could trace that to the greensward urse their sandals gave the Indian drama was to suffer an even more melancholy fate in glorious spoofing as we shall discover with John brooms Burlesque with music Pocahontas on the next programme of America on stage. I am.

Honored. Program for America on stage produced and recorded by the Wisconsin state broadcasting service under a grant from the Educational Television and Radio Center. The programs are distributed by the National Association of educational broadcasters consultant for the series is Jonathan W. Kervyn professor of speech at the University of Wisconsin heard in the cast were cliff Roberts Marge Jaffer Ray Stanley Ed Sprague Joan Hayes Norman Mickey Bill Harley Tom to Tina and Ken nosed music composed and conducted by Darren vaguely scripted by Julius Landau production by Carl Schmidt. Yeah. This is me and he be radio network.