[These speeches must be slow, to the rhythm of music.]
Narrator: Play “Summertime” for Joe Brown Jr., and a very funky “Summertime” for his friend James Roberts, who he knifed to death.
Joe Brown Jr.:... And then I thought, I don’t see any black folks on TV, ever. Not any real black folks, anyway. There are those so-called black shows like Good Times and The Jeffersons, but they are so far removed from the kind of folks I know that they may as well be white too. I see us playing football, basketball, and baseball, and half the time I miss that because they be on in the afternoon, and I’m usually shelling oysters. Where am I? I asked my wife, and she answered, In the Florida Avenue project where you are doing a poor job of taking care of your wife and children. My boss answered, On the job, if you would keep your mind on what you are doing... count the oysters.
Dr. Brayboy:... Ice picks and knives and frustration. My tests indicate that Joe Brown Jr. is considerably above average in intelligence. Above average in intelligence. Above average. Vocabulary and reading comprehension extraordinary...
Narrator: [To audience] Our purpose here is to discover why.
Dr. Brayboy:... But school achievement extremely low. Dropped out at eighteen in the eleventh grade.
Joe Brown Jr.: I began watching all the TV sets I could, looking for my image on every channel, looking for someone who looked like me. I knew I existed, but I didn’t see myself in the world of television or movies. Even the black characters were not me. All the black characters were either weak and stupid, or some kind of superman who doesn’t really exist in my world. I couldn’t define myself, and didn’t know where to begin. When I listened to soul music on the radio I understood that, and I knew that was part of me, but that didn’t help me much. Something was not right, and it was like... like I was the only cat in the whole world who knew it. Something began to come loose in me, like my mind would float away from my body and lay suspended on a shelf for hours at a time watching me open oysters. No one ever suspected, but my mind was trying to define me, to tell me who I was the way other people see me, only it couldn’t because it didn’t know where to begin.
[The scene shifts to the desk of the Chief of Police. He may be played by a white actor, or a black actor in white face.]
Narrator: The Chief of Police.
Chief of Police: The rate of crime in the streets in New Orleans has risen sharply. We know that most of our colored citizens are wholesome, law-abiding, decent citizens. But the fact remains that the crime wave we are witnessing now across the nation is mostly nigger crime. Stop niggers and you will stop crime. The police must have more protection, more rights, and more weapons of all types to deal with the crime wave. We need guns, machine guns, multimachine guns, gas bombs, and reinforced nightsticks. Otherwise America is going to become a nightmare of black crime in the streets.
[Lights up on Mr. Andrews, Joe’s boss. He is sitting behind a terribly messy desk with papers stuck in desk holders. His feet are on the desk. He is eating a large muffuletta sandwich. His image must be one of a relaxed, informal interview at his office during lunchtime. If there are no white actors, the part can be played by a black actor in white face, but instead of eating lunch, he should be smoking a huge cigar.]
Narrator: Joe Brown’s employer, Mr. Andrews.
Mr. Andrews: I have trouble with several of my nigra boys, but I likes ’em. [He almost chokes on his sandwich.] Joe was a little different from the rest... what would you say... dreamier... more absentminded. Joe was always quitting, but he must have liked it here ’cause he always came back. You can’t tell me anything about those people. One time, during lunch hour, they were singing and dancing outside to the radio and I snuck up to watch. If they had seen me they would’ve stopped. It was amazing. The way them boys danced is fantastic. They shore got rhythm and a sense of style about them. Yes sir... and guess who got the most style... ole Joe. [Bites and eats.] That boy sure can dance. I loves to watch him. [Bites.] Recently, he been going to the bathroom a lot and staying a long time. I ask the other boys, Where’s that doggone Joe? They tell me. So one day I go to the john and there he is, sitting on the stool... readin’. I say, Boy, I pay you to read or shell oysters? He comes out all sulky. [Smiling.] He could be kind of sensitive at times, you know. I been knowing him since he was a kid... born around here... kind of touchy. [Andrews has finished his sandwich. He takes his feet off the desk, throws the wrapper into the trash, and wipes his hands. A serious look comes over his face.] As for why he killed that boy, I can’t give you any answers. I think it has to do with nigras and the way they get wild on the weekend. Sometimes the good times get a little rough. And them [pause] you don’t know what a boy like Joe can get mixed up in, or any of them out there. [Waves toward the door.] I don’t understand it, and I know and likes ’em all, like they was my own family. My job is to keep ’em straight here... any trouble out of any of ’em and out the door they go.
[The scene shifts to another white man. He is well dressed with his tie loosened, sitting behind an extremely disordered desk. Black actor can play in white face. He must, throughout his speech, wear a public relations smile. He must speak with a winning air.]
Narrator: Mr. Richard Spaulding, director of the Poverty Program in New Orleans.
Mr. Spaulding: Last year we spent 3.5 million in five culturally deprived areas of New Orleans. This money has made a tremendous difference in the lives of our fine colored citizens. We have provided jobs, jobs, and more jobs. By creating, for the first time, indigenous community organizations controlled and operated by the people of the five target areas, we have, for the first time, provided a way to close the cultural and economic gap. Social service centers are going up in all these areas. We will develop a level of competency on par with American society as a whole. In the Desire area alone, 750 mothers go to our medical center each day. We have, in short, provided hope. Of course, there are still problems.
Narrator: Any insights into the murder of James Roberts last summer by Joe Brown Jr.?
Mr. Spaulding: We are building community centers, baseball diamonds, basketball courts, little leagues, golden-agers facilities, barbecue pits, swimming pools, badminton nets, and... if our dreams come true... well-supervised and policed bowling alleys. It is our firm hope that sociology will stay out of neighborhood bars.
Narrator: Thank you, Mr. Spaulding.
[The scene shifts to a middle-aged woman sitting on a well-worn couch. She is wearing a plain dress. There is a small table with a lamp and Bible on it next to the couch. She is Mrs. Brown, Joe’s mother. Across the stage, sitting in a big easy chair, is a middle-aged man in work clothes. He is Mr. Brown, Joe’s father. He is drinking a large can of beer which, from time to time, he will place on the floor. He listens to what Mrs. Brown says intently, but there must be an air of distance in his attitude toward her and what she says, never affection. The audience must be made to believe they are in different places.]
Narrator: [Solemnly] This is Joe Brown’s mother. [A spot focuses on Mrs. Brown. There is enough light, however, to see Mr. Brown.]