(ambient music) (uptempo music) - Again, just a little bit more.

- This ain't no place for comfort.

- Sam Smith.

Sam... - Okay, okay.

Sam Smith ain't never goin' near them rooms no more!

And we'll just hop on downstairs- - Okay, see how to drop it down a little bit like I'm going to.

Just stay, stay in that zone.

- Okay.

- We're getting out of here, baby.

Let's go.

- Okay.

- Yeah.

- Sam Smith ain't never goin' near them rooms no more.

And we'll just hop on downstairs with you.

This ain't no place for comfort.

- And we'll just hop on downstairs with you 'cause we're going with you, we're getting out of here.

You know, that's what that line is about.

Yeah, try it again.

- Okay.

Sam Smith ain't never goin' near them rooms no more.

And we'll just hop on downstairs with you.

This ain't no place for comfort.

- Yeah, so, we'll just hop on down there with you, and we're going, we're getting out of here.

So just remember that that line actually means we're going down.

Yeah, we're gonna follow you downstairs and we're going get on out of here.

Yeah.

Okay?

Yeah.

(tense uptempo music) - Just to think about Spelman, which started as the Atlanta Baptist Female Seminary, being founded in 1881 by two white women in a city specifically for women of the African diaspora is still significant.

The school has been in continuous operation since then through the aftermath of Reconstruction, through the Civil Rights era, through the uptick in lynchings and violence against Black bodies.

Just to think about the brilliant women leaders who help lead SNCC campus organizations such as Ruby Doris Smith-Robinson and Roslyn Pope who helped draft the AUC student statement.

But I also wanna make sure to mention that the founders, Sophia Packard and Harriet Giles didn't come into a vacuum.

They came into a rich, vibrant, existing Black community.

(sentimental music) - I think there's a rich history of understanding the, I think the presence and position of Black women in the struggle of our culture.

I think it's really interesting also to understand that the women of Spelman College have led some of the most important conversations across this country and have been the backbone of a lot of movements that have made a difference for the communities of color.

More specifically, what Spelman does to the women, or for the women that have the opportunity to come to Spelman is to make sure that they realize they have the impact.

We teach them social justice, we teach them how to advocate for themselves and for issues that matter to them.

(sentimental music) Spelman and Atlanta obviously are synonymous, but I'll also say it's much more than that.

To understand that Martin Luther King's daughter, Dr.

Bernice King was a student here.

We had Dr.

Farris.

Because we are in Atlanta, we have this unique advantage to pull in some of the strongest, most prominent civil rights leaders to this campus to this day.

And a lot has happened on this campus.

A lot of conversations have happened in the walls.

If these walls could talk, it would be an interesting conversation.

I got a chance to spend some time in Reynolds Cottage and I look at the history of that building alone that's almost over a hundred years, we're about to celebrate 144 years as an institution.

And if you can only imagine who's come through these walls in the conversations, the guests that we've had, a lot happens here.

People believe that the AU Center, Spelman College in particular, is a place where it happens.

- Maybe not all art is political, but I think historically in African American history and our traditions, art has been a way of expression.

Whether it's theater, whether it's dance and other performing arts as a way to actively engage in particularly significant political moments.

When you think about Spelman and the Atlanta University Center, it was really open for the community and you had performers like Marian Anderson, Langston Hughes, Pearl Primus coming and performing on these campuses.

And I feel like it was, yes, of course, because of segregation throughout the city of Atlanta, maybe they couldn't.

But I also think there was a special desire to wanna be connected to community, to know that this is a place in bastion for the performing arts.

And to talk about Black history, Black diasporic culture to push against white supremacist narratives of the inferiority, of the lack of talent and ability by the sheer brilliance of the theater performances, by the sheer number when you think of the Atlanta University players or just the sheer output.

- Enter May Bush.

- Am I late?

Oh, the roses are beautiful.

See?

- Randolph.

Beautiful, my darling.

- When you get an actor to fully embrace a character, they're really embodying another entity and it's probably something that the actor is, they've worked hard for weeks to bring to life a character that they're embodying and hoping to transmit to the audience.

Now, in a staged reading, we have a shorter amount of time, and in that amount of time you're still hoping to embody something of the spirit, of the story that you're attempting to tell.

- We are in a landscape where you've got the history of great minds here.

So it's not hard to think about Du Bois.

It's not hard to think about Martin Luther King Jr.

in this very landscape.

Certainly with Du Bois one of the things that we know is that when he was here in Atlanta, he was concerned about lynching.

What I love about "Blue Blood" is that you see that an urgency for Black women was not just lynching, but it was also sexual violence.

I think mostly what I was trying to get the students to understand from the perspective of the playwrights, clearly you could observe that the playwrights were thinking about women of a particular generation and time and what their lives must have been like.

They were both written in 1926 and with "Blue Blood" what was interesting is that you had someone in 1926 thinking about the conditions of Black women's lives, the history of that moment, the wreckage of that time, and wondering about how they put those pieces together.

- The time period was difficult.

I never really worked in the 1800s, so research was very important.

Watching movies based on that time period.

That really helped me visualizing where "Blue Blood" comes from and how I am supposed to, I guess, sorta create the garments to fit the character as well as the actor.

- Costumes are always the most exciting point for me because once we get the costume on, I feel like that's what really clicked the character.

Each character has a specific color and Mrs.

Bush's color is brown.

It's the earth and whenever I think of the earth, it's very grounding and she's a grounding point for the whole entire family for May, for Mrs.

Temple.

She has to be the one to keep it together.

It's a bigger metaphor for how Black women in America, we've always had to keep things together.

We've always had to pursue and push through no matter what the situation is.

And it's very representative keeping that grounding there.

(no audio) - [Narrator] "Blue Blood" by Georgia Douglas Johnson.

Scene: Georgia, shortly after the Civil War.

Large kitchen and dining room combined a frame cottage showing one door leading into backyard, one other door leading into hall, one back window, neatly curtained.

Steps on right side of room leading upstairs.

Enter Randolph Strong with large bunch of whites roses and a package.

He places the package on the table, still holding the roses.

- How is my dear Mother Bush?

- Feeling like a sixteen-year-old!

(giggles) That's right, you come on right back here with me.

Oh!

What pretty roses.

Snow white.

- Like 'em?

Thought you would.

May likes this kind.

- She sholy do.

Poor child.

She's turning her back on the best fella in this town when she turned you down.

I knows a good man when I see one.

- You are always so kind to me, Mother Bush.

I feel like the lost sheep tonight, the one hundredth one out in the cold separated by iron bars from the ninety and nine.

What am I doing?

The milk's spilt!

Put these in here?

- Sure.

My, but they look grand.

There ain't many young doctors so handy-like.

- First time I saw her, she wore a white rose in her hair.

- Just listen!

May's plum blind.

Oh!

If she'd a only listened to me, she'd be marrying you tonight instead of that stuck up John Temple.

I never did believe in two "lights" marrying, no how.

It's unlucky.

They're just exactly the same color.

Hair and eyes alike too.

Now you, you was just right for my May.

Dark should marry light.

You'd be a perfect match.

- Mm.

Hold, hold for goodness sake.

Why didn't you lend that little blind girl of yours your two good eyes?

- She wouldn't hear me.

Between you and me, I surely do wish she'd have said yes when you popped the question last Christmas.

I hate to see her tying up with this highfalutin' nothing.

She'll realize someday that money ain't everything and that a poor man's love is a whole sight better than a stiff-necked, good-looking dude.

- It can't be helped now, Mother Bush.

- If she's happy, that's the main thing.

- But is she gonna be happy?

That's just it.

- Let us hope so.

Do you know, Mother Bush, sometimes I think May cares for me.

- Do you know?

Honey, somehow, sometimes I do too.

- You do too?

Oh, if I could fully believe that even now, at this last minute.

What's the use?

What's the use?

Is everything ready?

- You bet, I'm all dressed under this apron.

Oh Lord.

Lord save us!

That Lyddie Smith ain't brought that mayonnaise dressing yet.

Vowed she'd have it here by eight sharp if she was alive.

What time you got?

- 8:30.

- 8:30?

Good gracious.

- I'll run over and get it for you.

- Oh yes, honey!

Do hurry.

Oh, what a son-in-law you would've made.

- Good joke, but I can laugh.

- [Narrator] Mrs.

Bush notices a package that had been left by Strong.

She opens it and discloses a beautiful vase and reads aloud the card attached.

- For May and her husband, with best wishes for your happiness.

Randolph.

May!

May!

Run down here a minute.

I got something to show you.

Oh Lord, not dressed yet?

Gracious!

There.

Look.

Randolph brought it!

- Oh, did he?

Randolph is a dear.

- He brought you these roses too.

Said you like this kind.

May?

May, are you happy?

- Why... Why, of course I am.

- Maybe you is, May, but somehow I don't feel satisfied.

- Oh, Ma, everything is gonna be just fine.

Just wait until you see me dressed.

Oh, somebody's coming in here.

- [Narrator] Mrs.

Temple's muffled voice is heard.

The hall kitchen door opens suddenly.

Enter Mrs.

Temple.

- Oh!

Oh, heavens!

They tried to keep me from coming out here.

The very idea of her talking that way to me, the groom's own mother.

Huh.

Who is that little upstart that let me in at the front door?

I told her I was coming right out here in the kitchen, for even though we have not called on each other in the past, moving around as you know in somewhat different social circles, and of course not being thrown very closely together, yet now, at this particular time, Mrs.

Bush, I feel since our children are determined to marry, I feel that my place tonight is right back here with you.

Oh, why, May, are you not dressed yet?

You'll have to do better than that when you are Mrs.

John Temple.

- Don't worry about May.

She'll be ready.

Where's John?

Is he here?

- (chuckles) Sure.

He brought me in his buggy, ah, but the fellas captured him and promised they're going to keep him out driving until the last minute.

You better hurry, May.

You mustn't keep John waiting.

- Oh, John will get used to waiting on me.

- Huh.

Oh, what's this?

Chicken salad?

Ooh, is it finished?

No, it ain't.

The mayonnaise ain't come yet.

I sent Randolph for it.

I just got tired on waiting on Lyddie Smith to fetch it.

- Oh my gracious.

Just give me the things and I'll make the dressing for you in the jiffy.

- I'm afraid you'll get yourself spoiled doing kitchen work.

Such folks as you better go 'long in the parlor.

- Oh, no indeed.

This is my son's wedding and I'm here to do a mother's part.

Besides, he is a Temple and everything must be, well, right.

- (giggles) You needn't worry 'bout this wedding being right.

It is my daughter's wedding and I'll see to that.

- Hmm.

- Hmm.

- Well, you'll have to admit that the girls will envy May marrying my boy John.

- Envy May?

(snickers) Envy May?

They better envy John.

You don't know who May is.

She's got blue blood in her veins.

- (chuckles) You amuse me.

I'll admit May's sweet and pretty but she is no match for John.

- She's not.

Eh, if I told you who May is, you'd be struck dumb.

- Remarkable but I am curious.

- I bet you is.

You'd fall flat if I told you who May is.

- Pray, Mrs.

Bush, tell me then.

Who is May?

Hmm?

- Who is May?

Who is May?

Why do you know Captain Winfield McCallister, the biggest banker in this town, and who's got money vested in banks all over Georgia?

That aristocrat of aristocrats, that Peachtree Street blue blood, Captain McCallister.

Don't you know him?

- Yes, I, I've heard of him.

Well, I'd have you to know he's May's daddy.

- Oh.

Why?

I can't, I can't believe it.

- Well, believe it or not, it's the bounden truth so help me God.

Ain't you never seen him strut?

Just look at May.

Walks just like him, got eyes like him, nose and mouth like him.

She's his living image.

- You, you terrify me.

Mrs.

Bush, Captain McCallister can't be May's father.

- Can't be May's father?

Well, I reckon I ought to know who May's father is.

What do you know about it anyhow?

What do you know about Captain McCallister?

- Do you mean to tell that- - I mean just what I said.

I'm telling you that my daughter, May Bush, has got the bluest blood in America in her veins.

Just put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Talking about May not being a match for John.

I should say they don't come no finer than May anywhere.

- Mrs.

Bush, Mrs.

Bush, I have something to say and it must be said right now.

Oh, where do I begin?

Let me think.

- This ain't no time to think.

I got to act.

My child's gotta get married and get married right.

- Please, please be still a minute.

You'll drive me mad.

- Drive you mad?

The devil I will.

Say, look here, Miss High-and-Mighty, what you up to?

Get outta here, you ain't gonna start no trouble here.

- Please, please, Mrs.

Bush.

You don't understand.

Oh, and how can I tell you?

Oh, what a day.

Oh, what a day.

- Look here.

Is you crazy or just a fool?

Neither.

Mrs.

Bush, I'm just a broken-hearted mother and you must help me.

Help me for May's sake, if not for mine.

- For May's sake!

Explain yourself!

This is a pretty come off.

- It's a long story, but I'll tell you in a few words.

Oh!

Oh, I've tried to forget it.

- Forget what?

Look here.

What time is it?

- A quarter of nine.

- Lord, woman, we ain't got no time for storytelling.

I've gotta hurry.

- You must hear me.

You must.

You must.

- Well, of all things, what is the matter with you?

- Be quiet, just one minute, and let tell you.

- You better hurry up.

- Once I taught at a country school in Georgia.

I was engaged to Paul Temple.

I was only nineteen.

I had worked hard.

I had worked hard enough to make enough money to pay for my wedding things.

It was gonna be in the early fall, our wedding.

- I put all that money in the bank and one day in that bank, I met a man.

He helped me.

And then I see he wanted his pay for it.

He kept on...kept writing me.

Oh, he didn't sign his letters though.

I wouldn't answer.

I tried to keep away.

One night, one night he came to the place where I boarded.

And the woman where I boarded, she helped him.

He bribed her.

He came into my room.

- The dirty devil.

- I cried out.

Of course, there wasn't anyone there that cared enough to help me.

And you know yourself, Mrs.

Bush, what little chance there is for women like us in the south to get justice or redress when these things happen.

- Sure, honey, I do know.

- My mother knew.

There wasn't any use trying to punish him.

She said I would be the one that would suffer.

- You done right.

And what your ma told you is the God's truth.

- I told Paul Temple, the one I was engaged to, the whole story, only I couldn't tell him who.

I knew he would've tried to kill him.

And then they'd have killed Paul.

- That was good sense.

- He understood the whole thing and married me.

Oh, he knew why I wouldn't tell him that man's name.

Not even when, when that man's son was going to me.

(Mrs.

Bush stammering) - You don't mean John?

- Yes, John.

And his father is- - No.

No.

- Yes.

Winfield McCallister is John's father, too.

- Oh.

Oh my God!

My God!

(whimpering) What can we do?

Just think of my poor, dear child, May, upstairs there.

All dressed up just like a bride expecting to get married, and all them folks, they're in the parlor waiting for the ceremony.

What can we do?

What can we tell them?

- Yes, yes.

We've got to think and act quickly.

We can't tell the world why the children didn't marry and cause a scandal.

I'd be ruined.

- So far as you is concerned, I ain't worried about your being ruined.

May will be ruined if we don't tell why people be saying John jilted her and you can bet your sweet life I won't stand for that.

No, siree!

I don't care who is hurts.

I'm not going to see my May suffer, not if I can help it.

- Oh!

Oh, but we must do something!

- [Narrator] Enter Randolph with mayonnaise dressing from Lyddie Smith's.

- Good evening, Mrs.

Temple.

I'm a little late, Mrs.

Bush, but here's what you sent me for.

My, my.

Why, what's wrong?

- Randolph, my dear boy.

- What's the matter?

What's happened since I left a while ago?

- Listen, Randolph, and for God's sake!

May and John can't get married.

- Can't get married?

Why?

- Can I tell him?

May must know it too.

Let's call her down.

May!

May!

Oh, May, my dear child.

Come down here a minute.

Quick!

Right away.

My poor child.

My poor child.

- What a day!

What a day!

- [May] Coming, Ma.

- [Narrator] Enter May Bush.

- Am I late?

Oh, the roses are beautiful.

See.

- Randolph.

Randolph remembered the kind that you like, honey.

- Just like you!

- How sweet of you to wear one!

- How do I look, Ma?

- Beautiful, my darling.

Poor child.

- How do you like me, my other mama?

- Charming.

God protect you, my dear!

- Why you all seem so sad?

Why so doleful?

What is the matter with them, Randolph?

- Why...I'm wounded, but smiling.

The ladies- - Oh children, don't waste this precious time.

- We've called you together to tell you something.

May.

Come here, come here, Randolph, for I feel that both of you are my children.

May, you gotta be strong for if you ever needed wits, now's the time to use 'em.

God, forgive me.

And Mrs.

Temple there, both of us.

I just gotta tell you about it quick, for all them folks are in the parlor and if we don't do something quick right now, this whole town will be ripping us to pieces.

You, me, Mrs.

Temple, and the last one of us.

I know you can trust your own dear ma that far?

- Yes, Ma, yes, but what is it?

- May, you and John can't get married.

You just can't.

- Can't marry?

Can't marry?

- No, never.

- But why?

Why?

- Your father and John's father is, is.

- You don't mean... - Yes, May.

John's father is your father.

- Oh, I'd rather die.

I'd rather die than face this.

- Honey, honey, I know.

God, forgive me.

God, forgive that man.

Oh no, I don't want Him to forgive him.

- Oh, why?

Why did this have to happen to me?

I could die right now.

- May, don't say that.

You mustn't say that.

I do, oh God.

I've kept out of their clutches myself, but now it's through you?

Ma, that they've got me anyway.

Oh, what's the use?

- May!

- The whole world will be pointing at me.

- Honey, honey, I'll be loving you.

- All those people in the parlor, they'll be laughing.

- Would you listen to me now, May?

- Oh, oh, it's John.

We can't let him come in here now.

He mustn't know.

- No, you can't let him know or he'll kill his own father.

- What are you going to do, May?

- Yes, May.

What are you gonna do?

- We're going to run away and get married.

Aren't we, May?

Say yes.

May, please say yes.

- But John.

- Keep it from him.

It's the Black women that have got to protect their men from the white men by not telling on them.

- God knows that's the truth.

- May!

Come with me now!

- Randolph, do you want me?

- I want you like I've always wanted you.

- But I don't love you.

- You think you don't.

- Do you want me now?

- I want you now.

- Ma.

Oh, Ma!

(whimpers) - Quick darlin', tell him.

- My coat.

- I'll get your coat, honey.

- Here, May, take my coat!

- What are we gonna tell John?

And all the people?

Tell him... Oh God, we can't tell 'em the truth.

- Mother Bush, just tell them the bride was stolen by Randolph Strong!

(no audio) - Thank you so much for inviting me.

This has been an amazing experience with you, the whole week watching this develop and watching it grow.

What made you choose to work with this project?

It's called "Dangerous Acts."

Where does that come from?

- Very good question.

Why is it called "Dangerous Acts?"

Well, most of you may or may not know that once upon a time we had been lynched for wanting to read or write.

If any of you have been down to the EJI, the Equal Justice Initiative, which is in Montgomery, Alabama, which was created by Bryan Stevenson, you can read signs and it said this person was lynched because they read or they had a letter in their hand.

So, it's a dangerous act in and of itself reading and writing straight out of slavery.

Secondly, these are women playwrights and they were lesser known.

They were a little bit overlooked.

Both women had their works performed by the Krigwa Players.

The Krigwa Players, of course, was formed by W.E.B.

Du Bois, who was a professor here at the Atlanta University Center.

So it's called "Dangerous Acts" because we're dangerously preserving our own legacy and telling our stories of us.

- Which is so important.

- Absolutely.

- For us, by us.

- For us, by us.

- Yeah, that's Du Bois talking.

- Yeah.

- It's really (indistinct).

- For us, by us.

I feel like I knew about Spelman and the AUC, but I was profoundly ignorant of the richness of theater at Spelman and the Atlanta University Center.

Again, looking at just the photographs that we have going back again from the '20s, the student productions.

Throughout historically, you have iconic actresses.

Ruby Dee, you know, coming back to performing.

You have people like Miss LaTanya Richardson Jackson, Samuel L. Jackson, Bill Nunn in plays.

So, I think just to have such a deep history steeped in theater and the performing arts at Spelman and really, the Atlanta University Center, is so rich and powerful, and the fact that in the archives we do have these photographs but we also have playbills, we have treatments, we have copies.

So, we have that lasting legacy and I know typically people might not think of archives as political amplification of spaces, but I always like to say archives and those of us who do memory work, we're not passive keepers of dead records.

We're actively activating this history.

- Remember we're in the 1920s now.

So, the other people were in the Civil War in the 1800s.

That's what's so interesting is that they are the people, they keep the household together.

They know when people come and go, they know when the husband's having an affair with the mistress.

They know everything.

So, they run everything.

It's, like, you can laud it over people too.

(sentimental music) I like "Her" because it's one of those stories or a tale that you wrap around the quilt and you story tell.

And really for us, we really had to imagine this was written in a time when all people didn't have electricity.

So you might've been around the kerosene lamp, you might've been around the wood fire and you're all snuggled up together to entertain each other.

Because remember, people didn't have television, they didn't have radio.

So we entertained each other with our stories.

- So, Martha is a wash woman and she's been doing this pretty much for as long as she can remember.

She takes care of her husband who, unfortunately, is disabled.

In the Great Depression where people are unemployed, people are kinda working hard and trying to kinda make the best of what they can, Martha gets to sort of control this narrative with herself, her husband, and the people around her.

And so, with this big monologue that I do as Martha, I get the chance to sort of invite the audience as well as the central players in this cast to kind of go back with me and to seeing her.

I think Martha truly believes that she has to sort of protect herself and people around her from her.

- "Her" by Eulalie Spence.

Scene: Martha's living room, about eight o'clock.

One rainy night in spring.

(thunder rumbles) Martha.

Old, Black Martha, who takes in washing for some very old families.

Martha, who takes care of Pete, her husband, crippled and an idler for more than fifteen years.

No modern living room this, just Martha's room, with her cheap prints on the walls.

(somber music) - They's most as wet as they was when I hung 'em out.

If this weather keeps up, I don't see I'm gonna get these clothes out by Saturday.

(sighs) Weather what's good for farmers, don't help us wash women none.

- Ain't like you, Martha, complaining.

Reckon you're back is bad tonight.

- No worse than usual.

- Then something's on your mind.

- Maybe.

- It was too hard, Martha.

I wish... (sighs) - What you wishing for, Pete?

- In them magazines you brung home last week, there was a piece 'bout some crippled fellas, how they learned how to make money, plenty money.

Now, I ain't read something so miraculous in a long time, Martha, and I got to thinkin'.

I might have been helping you all these years if I knowed how.

- Pete Alexander, if you ain't got no better sense than to pick pieces about cripples, I'm gonna stop bringing home them no 'count books.

Now don't let me hear no more of that trash.

- I was only thinking.

- You ain't got no business thinkin' about such trash.

Yuh's puttin' yourself with these young fellas what's been hurt in the war.

It's nigh on fifteen years you've been sittin' there and I ain't done no complaining I knows of.

- That ain't no woman like you, Martha, (chuckles) nowhere.

I knows it, and I thanks God for you, day and night.

- Well, don't let me hear no more talk about your earning money.

I ain't slept good these two nights, Pete.

- I heard ya movin' along about five this mornin'.

- Five?

I didn't close my eyes all night.

- What's the matter, Martha?

- Pete, I seen Mr.

Kinney this mornin'.

He's got some folks for up above.

- For upstairs?

- They's to come tonight to see the rooms.

- Tonight?

- I'm to show 'em around, so he said.

Reckon if it keeps on raining, they won't come.

- Reckon they won't.

Martha, did you tell him?

- Of course, I told him but it didn't do no good, Pete.

Nothing ever gonna change him.

- I reckon you was right, Martha.

- 'Lessen it's Her.

- Her?

- She's kept me awake these two nights, Pete.

- It ain't natural, this talk 'bout her.

- Of course it ain't natural, but it's real.

What you hears is real, ain't it?

- I ain't never heard nothing, Martha.

- But they's them what has heard.

You knows that, don't you?

- So they says, but my ears just good's yours, Martha, and I ain't never heard nothing.

- Oh, they ain't so goods's you think, Pete.

- You ain't heard Her in more'n a year.

- The place ain't been rented in more'n a year.

- Ain't honest rentin' them rooms after what's happened.

- I told Mr.

Kinney's much.

- And what he have to say to that, Martha?

- He says if I don't wanna show them rooms to people he could get somebody else.

Of course I need the money, little's it is.

- It's raining so hard.

I reckon they won't come tonight.

- I expect not, 'lessn they wants 'em real bad.

- If Mr.

Kinney's so set on going up there and rentin' them rooms, he ought to go up there and show himself.

- Him?

He ain't been up there now eighteen years and I reckon he ain't never going up there.

- I reckon not, seeing as he don't go no higher than the ground floor.

- He's lookin' powerful bad.

It's like he's worryin' hard about somethin'.

(Pete chuckles) - Worryin' 'bout how he can spend some more of that money of his.

- Hmm.

More likely worryin' about Her.

- Her?

Now, what good will it do to him to worry about her now?

- You can call it conscience or you can call it Her.

'Tis one and the same thing, I reckon.

Oh, he's worryin' powerful bad.

(door thumping) I reckon it's the folks to see the rooms.

(door thumping) - Well, are you gonna let me in?

- Take a seat, sir.

'Tis a bad night, I reckon.

- I's powerful surprised to see you, Mr.

Kinney.

I stared like I'd seen a ghost, sure enough.

- No ghosts this time and that brings me to the subject of my visit.

Well, I'm expecting a young couple here this evening.

Ought to be here any minute now.

Wish to see the rooms above.

- Yes sir.

You's told me about showing them.

- Well, I've changed my mind.

When they come, I'll show them the rooms myself.

- You're going up there?

- Yes.

Now, if you'll give me the key.

But good lord, sir!

You ain't been going up there on the last twenty years.

- Then it's time I did go up.

The place may need a few repairs.

- You did it over last year for them other folks and they didn't stay more than a month.

- Ah, to be sure, well, I'll just take a look for myself.

I told Mrs.

Smith to bring her husband and meet me here at eight o'clock.

Don't let me interrupt your work, Martha.

I see you're busy.

- I ain't so busy but I can show them rooms for you, sir.

Oh, I hope you ain't mad 'count of what I said this morning.

I've always done my best about renting them rooms.

- Perhaps you have, in the past, but you don't wanna do your best now.

That, however, is not my real reason for wanting see those rooms.

Looking back over the years... Twenty, you say?

Twenty.

Oh, I can see what a fool I've been.

What a fool you've helped me to be.

You, with your talk of signs and omens, sound and night alarms.

You filled my mind with superstitious fears.

I, who used to laugh at fears.

Well, you've frightened away my tenants long enough with your gossip and fancies.

Well, I won't say you've done these things out of malice, but by God!

Some men might!

- Then, then you don't believe nothing I've ever told you?

- Well, I did.

Once.

Now I know they're lies or fancies.

- Martha ain't no liar!

Now, now, if she said she's heard goins on, she's heard 'em.

- Oh well, I suppose you've also heard these goings ons as you call them?

- No, I ain't heard nothing, but my ears ain't nowhere good as Martha's.

Ain't a tenant that's gone up there that ain't left, because of Her.

- How is it that in all these years she's never been back to disturb my slumbers?

- Who?

- How do you account for that?

- I ain't no call to account for nothin' but what I knows 'bout.

- Very good.

Now, with the best of intention, perhaps, you have frightened away my tenants.

The power of suggestion is a greater force than we realize.

I can forgive this but I can't forgive your filling your mind with fancies.

I've come to the conclusion that the only way to wipe the incident clean from my mind, except as we have on occasion, if you recall some unfortunate happenings, is to take Mrs.

Smith and see those rooms for myself.

- (sighs) Well, ain't for me to say you shouldn't go up there.

Only I don't like it none.

There's far too many things happen in these two nights, and I don't like it none.

I reckon it means something's going to happen.

- Something is going to happen.

I'm gonna brush a thousand cobwebs from my brain.

Oh, I haven't felt happier about anything in a long time.

Ought to have done this years ago instead of avoiding the place.

- Maybe you's right, sir.

Maybe you's right.

- Of course, I'm right.

It's eight on the minute.

Oh, I hope they don't keep me waiting.

Oh, may as well tell you good people that I expect to sell this house.

- Sell this house?

- If you's plans on sell it, sir, why you bother going up there?

- Just to prove to you that you've been wrong and I've been gullible as a child.

It's my one chance of being a free man and I am not going to lose it.

(door thumping) Ah, and here they are.

- I reckon we ain't more than a minute late.

Sam, this' Mr.

Kinney.

Mr.

Kinney, this's my husband, Mr.

Sam Smith.

- Glad to meet you.

You're certainly on time.

- Oh, we's colored through an' through, Alice and me, accepting that we's always on time.

When we says eight, we means eight.

Not half past nine.

(chuckles) - Well, as a man of business I appreciate that.

This is Mrs.

Alexander and her husband.

Mrs.

Alexander usually rents my rooms, shows them to visitors.

But I'll show you these myself.

Martha, if you'll get me the key.

- [Narrator] Martha dives into an old jug and produces the key.

- I have a powerful search light.

And so if you're ready, we'll head up and inspect the room.

I will stop in on my way down, Martha.

There's a little matter I wanna see you about.

- (clears throat) I reckon he's right 'bout goin' up there.

A man ain't got no right actin' so scared over nothin'.

I mean about...Her.

- You don't need to say nothing more.

You always been a disbeliever, Pete, and I reckon you'll never change 'lessen yuh's give a sign.

- I don't need no sign, Martha.

- You ain't read that thar book from cover to cover without coming across signs and wonders-a-plenty.

- Sure they's signs, but- - Ain't you I'm thinking of, Pete or John Kinney.

It's that girl I'm thinking of, her and that young feller.

She's got a sweet face and I took to her right off and she'd have been older than she was when she first come here.

Oh, they ain't gonna have no happiness up there.

- I hope you ain't right 'bout that, Martha.

- Pete Alexander!

Pete Alexander.

You knows I never told what happened up there.

You knows that.

- Sure, I knows that.

- Mr.

Kinney thinks I's told all them other folks and that's what scared 'em away from here.

- I reckon he does.

- Well, I ain't never told nobody but I'm gonna tell that girl before she moves up there.

Ain't fair of letting them move in.

- When you going tell her, Martha?

You ain't gonna tell her 'fore Mr.

Kinney?

- I don't know.

I reckon the Lord'll 'pint the time.

- [Narrator] John Kinney and the Smiths come in once more.

- Well, everything is quite ship shape, Martha.

- It's just lovely.

Give me large rooms every time and everything looks nice and clean too.

- I reckon we'll settle for them rooms right now.

How about it, Alice?

- Sure.

We'll pay a deposit right now.

- [John] Half a month please.

- [Sam] Oh, right.

- My wallet.

I must have dropped it.

- That sure is tough.

- Tough?

There were over five hundred dollars in that wallet.

And what's more, I had it when I came in here tonight.

- In here?

- In here?

- You might have dropped it in the hall, or upstairs.

- A notebook.

I wonder if I could have dropped my wallet then.

- It don't do no harm lookin'.

I'll go with you if you want.

- No, thank you.

Wait here a few minutes if you don't mind.

I prefer going alone.

- Sure, we'll wait.

- It's too bad but you'd better look upstairs.

You might've dropped it sure enough.

- [Narrator] Kinney goes out, giving the door an angry slam.

- I sure hope he don't think we found his old wallet.

Gee, five hundred dollars?

I bet that guy's got money to burn.

- Bet he don't burn none, though.

(Smiths chuckling) - Listen, he'll be back any minute and I've got something powerful important to say.

You mustn't take them rooms, 'lessen you wants to have more trouble than you knows about.

They's... They's haunted.

- What's that you said?

- Good Lord!

- Haunted!

They ain't nobody been able to live in there longer than they could get out.

- You ain't joking.

- Before the good Lord, I's tellin' you the truth.

- But listen here, if what you says is true, does this landlord know about what you're telling us?

- He knows all right.

And I'll reckon he'll tell us to leave once he knows I's told you.

Well, I reckon it's time we did quit.

Do you think so, Pete?

- I think sames does you, Martha.

- I can't believe it.

- Nor me.

Say, you ain't trying to scare us out of them rooms in favor for somebody else, are you?

- Listen, it was nigh on twenty years ago when we first seen Her.

She was one of these here Philippine gals.

John Kinney was soljerin' in them parts.

He was young then and handsome.

She was pretty as a picture with her big black eyes and a head of hair like we don't never see no more.

And she had plenty money.

(foreboding music) Well, John Kinney marries her and about a year later they's comes to New York.

He quits the army then and goes into real estate.

He told her he was going to buy her a beautiful house.

He takes her money.

She was young then, a foreigner.

She didn't know no better but he don't buy her the pretty house, he told her about, no.

He buys this apartment house.

That's when she first commenced to see right through him.

He used to live then in two little rooms back of his dingy office.

It weren't no place for the likes of her.

She pined for the country, for the grass and the flowers.

She wanted him to fix up one of these floors so she could have some place to breathe in.

But he figured on them renting them apartments and he wouldn't let her have one.

She used come here to collect the rents.

Many's the time I's seen her big black eyes, swimming in tears.

She just took to me right off, and Pete and me thought the world of her.

We didn't always understand what she said.

I mean she didn't speak no good English like Pete and me but we could make out that she was lonesome.

Scared of New York.

Scared, too, of that husband of hers.

Oh, she missed her folks back home powerful bad.

She was just like a little wild bird caught and put in a cage in a dark room.

Well, seems like John Kinney told her one time that she could take the next floor that got vacant and she runs over here to tell me, just laughing and crying all together.

She used to come here whenever she got a chance and tell me about how she fixed them rooms.

Such funny ideas, too, she had 'bout fixins, but pretty.

Well, about three months later, the folks in the top floor went vacant and she told John Kinney all about her plans.

She was all ready to move in.

(chilling music) If the old devil didn't up and tell her he'd changed his mind.

Seems like he done forgot all about it.

He told her that he needed the money real bad to pay some bills and I never forgot how she told me all about it.

Her heart was nigh breakin', I reckon.

She told me them rooms was hers and she was going to move in.

I just thought she was talking wild, but weren't.

The next afternoon, John Kinney found her up there hanging between the parlor and the bedroom and she ain't never move away from up there, just like she said.

- I reckon there ain't no rooms for us, Alice.

- Let's go, Sam.

Quick 'fore he comes back.

- Sure.

I don't never wanna see nothing more of him.

Reckon he's still looking for that wallet.

(upstairs rumbling) - It's upstairs!

- Oh, somebody fell down!

- Oh Sam, let's get out of here quick 'fore something happens!

- I 'spect something has happened.

I reckon we better go up and see if Mr.

Kinney's hurt.

- Who, me?

Oh, you ain't talking to me, sister!

- Don't you do it!

Don't you leave me, Sam!

- Oh, Sam Smith ain't never goin' near them rooms no more!

- Well I reckon I'd better go upstairs and see what's happened.

- You's crazy, woman.

Let me out of here!

- Well, I better ask Mr.

Brown to go with me.

- Don't go up there alone, Martha.

- I'll just go downstairs and ask somebody to go upstairs with me.

- And we'll just hop on downstairs with you.

This ain't no place for comfort.

- [Narrator] Martha hurries back into the room, shutting the door behind her.

- Pete!

Pete!

You wanted a sign!

I just seen John Kinney walkin' down the stairs with Her!

She had him by the hand and she was laughin'!

(Alice screams) - I remember actually after 9/11, Cornel West was in conversation with Toni Morrison and one of the things that he said to her is that the nation sort of had to kinda reckon with catastrophe for many of them for the first time.

But we have been dealing with that for a very long time.

So the point was that a blues nation now had to turn to a blues people for answers.

I think that when you do recognize that as you see the work in the plays, you see Black women turning to other Black women for answers for how you make it through the day.

I think that would be wise for us to continue doing because I think the sentiment that you often hear today from Black folk is that this isn't new.

We've been doing this.

So, in that way, I don't think that you hear a lot of despair.

Mostly it's sort of wait and frustration.

But I think that a part of the vibrancy of what the students do as actors in this work is you see the full gambit of Black life.

You see joy, you see sorrow, you see angst, you see frustration, love.

That's still available to us, right?

Storytelling is important because it gives us an opportunity to reckon with the truth.

You know, even with fiction, the insight is true.

The wisdom is valuable.

And so, hopefully we continue to invest in our storytelling, invest in the process that we have of finding answers for the sake of our own lives because right, we do have answers for this nation if they turn to us.

(sentimental music) (tense uptempo music) (tense uptempo music continues) (tense uptempo music continues)