The Silver Train Robbery

Cast:

Jimmy: a miner

Mitch: another miner

Strike Leader 

Barkeep

Various railroad employees and guards  

The Miner’s Strike of 1908 has just been successfully completed, and the boss of the strike (Strike Leader) has been celebrating with his men; barrels of booze and bottles of spirits lay all about. 

The crooked saloon is covered from roof to door in bullet holes, and alcohol bottle fragments lay everywhere. This saloon is the only one for another 50 miles.

Dusk in a saloon. Drunken miners from Mineral Bluff, Georgia, are celebrating. General hullabaloo.

Lights Up

8:30 at night in the saloon

The Strike Leader is in the middle of a speech to his men.

Prologue:

Strike Leader: … and here we have your barrels of booze, drink fer yer celebration. We’re a-gonna work tomorrow. And just a warning fer y’all, don’t waste too much money on barkeep. God knows as a teetotaler, I only can handle so many glasses of apple juice. ‘Tis important to save up for prosperity, for a future, for the completion of the American Dream, ok boys? (general shouts and affirmations, and calls for more grog.)

Most of the men leave. Later: all the men have left, save Mitch, Jimmy, and the Barkeep.

Scene I

Jimmy: Lands a’ mercy, why if I weren’t here to relax for the first time in what seems to be an age – ah. Pass my mug down to the barkeep, old Mitch.

Barkeep: Now that’s a big healthy beverage for a big healthy lad.

Mitch: Here’s your nice tasty beverage, kind sir, and thanks for letting me drink all of it.

Jimmy: No problem my friend. (Jimmy grabs the mug, unaware it’s half empty, and puts it to his face). Barman! All I get in here is froth! I need me some juice old man! (Barkeep refills, giving Mitch the evil eye).  Now my pockets are a-drained. Need some coin for more beer foam. Hey Barkeep! What’s my tab lookin’ like?

Barkeep: Jimmy, yer overdrawn. That’s the last bit o’suds fer ya… .

Jimmy: Mitch, yore dough is what I need fer shots and foam…  .

Mitch: Near-strapped.

Jimmy: What’re we gunna do? Can’t live without no booze.

Mitch: Go hijack the silver train?

Jimmy: How’re we gonna do that?

Mitch: Dunno but we gotta do it. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ dat silver pass through to Atlanta without stealin’ some meself.

Jimmy: Right you are. Let’s run it by Strike Leader.

(Mitch and Jimmy leave the Saloon to Union leader’s apartment to discuss the plan with Strike Leader.)

Scene II

Strike Leader’s apartment

Strike Leader: I ain’t got the patience of Jesus, so unless yeh got somethin’ unimportant, I ain’t gonna listen to it. 

Jimmy: But ain’t it possible to hijack a train loaded with silver? 

Strike Leader: What a feat! Impossible even for the drunkendest of the drunk. I’d bet all ma’ dough that even a fellow ‘ike Paul Bunyan ain’t gonna pull this feat off. You boys go get yourself dry and get some sleep. We prevailed in the strike, and we got to show a strong hand tomorrow, back on the job. Booze is bad and poisons your brain: you should stop wasting yer dough on it and sit down and git some nice children instead.

Mitch: WHAT?? B-But sir, I need that booze ter breathe!

Strike Leader: Then find somethin’ else cause booze don’t solve no breathin’ problem.

Mitch: Gahh.

Jimmy: Eugh.

(They leave Strike Leader’s apartment and walk along the dirt road)

Mitch: What if we want to do it? Ya know, rob that silver?

Jimmy: Hmmm …  well, I AM cash strapped, and them mines ain’t gonna pay for no more suds, so… Soon as we can? 

Mitch: All right! Let’s grab a stick of dynamite and git goin’.

Scene III:

(Mitch and Jimmy go into the dynamite stand and purchase a stick of dynamite. They pay the little amount of money they have left and run to the train station, waiting for the next silver train to load silver.)

Mitch: Got’em sticks of dynamite, Jim?

Jimmy: You betcha.

Mitch: Yes sir, let’s go.

Jimmy: When’s the next silver train comin’?

Mitch: I dunno … Maybe inna couple hours?

Jimmy: Hopefully cause I ain’t got the patience.

Mitch: Yep.

Jimmy: (squinting at clock) It’s only 9:00. There ain’t no way it can be that late till another train comes, or else I must be fooled. These silver deliveries should end around this time if I recall, ‘em Yankee-made iron horses must drink a little somethin’.

Mitch: Wonder why it’s takin’ this long?

Jimmy: Dunno. Wanna go for another mug’o?

Mitch: Nah. We’ll miss the train.

Jimmy: Oh right.

Mitch: What’ll we do?

Jimmy: (takes a long swallow from a flask) We have t’wait, we’re waitin’! Waitn’ for the next train to come (he sings): “Waitn’ fer the train, Waitn’ fer the train, Waitn’ fer the train to come… . Mitchie! MitchCake! (his eyes roll into the back of his head). Lands! I just heard from Gawd!  Lissen – we can steal all the silver and we’ll… give that silver to the farmers! Dey da ones sufferin’ the most: do not argue! I was one till I became a coal miner, doin’ nothin’ but minin’ this useless black rock. … Farmer Joe! Farmer Betty! They provide us the core – in supplyin’ us bread. We cannot live without our deah’ farmers! Turnin’ a blind eye on those whose life matters most ain’t American! It ain’t America till all have an access to a better life… them poor farmers out there, starving because they can’t pay the debt from them, them tractors they paid for. Mitch, you may be confused, seeing as yeh weren’t no farmer, but tractors cost a whole lotta money, money that farmers don’t have. They gotta borra against their crop! Think about it, if we were to steal all the silver from dat soon-comin’ train, we’d be celebrated like heroes amongst the farmers. I wouldn’t hesitate to take that fame: it’d send us into the stars with all that glory. Think about all the fame, all the popularity we can get if we stole this silver and handed it to poor farmers… think of the prosperity we can make with this, think about all the hunger we solve, the happiness we’ll bring to these poor people, think about the prosperity we’d pop, the mass of bread we have, think of the eating power restored, think of the love, think of the hate, think of the… (he passes out, clearly drunk). 

Mitch: Jimbone?

(Mitch shakes Jimmy, but Jimmy remains asleep. Mitch then fumbles into his pocket and takes the sticks of dynamite that they bought and places in his own pocket. He then waits for the train to come.)

Mitch: Jimmy, wake up, wake up!

Jimmy: (feebly stirring) Huh?

Mitch: Come on, we’ve got to be alert. That train will come anytime soon, yeh lazy scrooge.

Jimmy: Ugh, why can’t I get my snoozles?

Mitch: Because. We’ve. Got. A. Train. To. Capture.

Jimmy: Oh right. But surely this can’t be right, it says here that it is 11:00 pm!

Mitch: Well I guess we’re calling it a day then. Let’s wait ta’ tomorrie.

Jimmy: No! I want that money for the farmers!

Mitch: Farmers! Farmers! Fine, but if we gotta stay till 3 am, I’m leavin’ now.

(The two men keep waiting as if the train they are expecting is coming, but there is nothing in sight. Enter Strike Leader.)

Strike Leader: Are you two serious with this? Go to bed boys and make yer selves a nice family instead’o spendin’ on booze.

Mitch: Jimmy, it’s the Strike Leader! Hello Sir.

Jimmy: Good morning, sir.

Strike Leader: Morning? Well it will be in about half an hour. You two’d better go to bed. We’ve got more work to do, so them Feds see our suffering.

Mitch: Sir, our intentions and orders were to go and hijack a silver train.

Jimmy: Yeah, and it ain’t comin’. Been waitin’ here for a couple-o hours.

Strike Leader: Who are you takin’ orders from, other than your own besotted sappy selves?

Mitch: It might come. No Strike Leader, we need that silver for suds.

Jimmy: Of course ‘at iron horse is a-comin’. Them Yankee built machinations gotta drink somethin’.

Strike Leader: I think you meant machine, and that you and this other sop are machinatin’? It is futile trying to steal silver. It’s guarded by beefy toughs. Go to bed, boys. (under his breath) …preposterous.

Jimmy: Yes sir.

(Exit Strike Leader.)

Mitch: (laughing) No sir.  

Mitch: I ain’t waitin’ for them Yankees ‘n their rusty Iron Horse to come no longer.

Jimmy: Listen!

(A silver train comes into the station to stop for water.)

Jimmy: (hushed whisper) Lo! ‘At train didn’t take no longer than I expected! ‘Dem Yankees –

Mitch: …sure know how to tinker their iron horses. (labored whisper) Could yeh shut yer trap for a few moments. Let’s go steal them bars of silver cause this train ain’t stayin’ long. (He coughs slightly, expelling some mysterious black substance).

(The two men rush onto the silver train bound for Atlanta, and, armed with nothing but some knives and a stick of dynamite, sneak onto the train. The guards, hearing something, step away to look, but it is only the wind, blowing the sign. Jimmy and Mitch, seizing this momentary distraction, leave their hiding spots, break into the padlocked boxcars with knives, and steal some beautiful silver bars. They stuff as many silver bars as they can into their clothes and their knapsacks. The train departs after getting a large refill of water.)

Mitch: (labored whisper) How many ye got?

Jimmy: (hushed whisper) Wha- ?

Mitch: (labored whisper) I ain’t stayin’ here no longer. Sheriff migh’ come and see us with these here bars.

Jimmy: (hushed whisper) Let’s go.

Scene IV.  Next day, evening.

(Enter Jimmy and Mitch, walking towards town, pockets bulging with the bars).

Mitch: What a day, I could really look forward to hijacking ‘nother silver train.  Work is life, but still, minin’ at the coalin’ plant is tirin’.

Jimmy: That would be a nice change from breaking your hands open in the mine.

Mitch: Yeah, wouldn’t halfta massage ‘em with duck butter every odd day… 

Jimmy: Let’s spend our hard-earned silver.

Mitch: Sure, hope ‘ole barkeep would let me. Man that guy hates me.

Jimmy: Well pay him off! Chip off a corner of one of those bars! If ye didn’t puke so much black stuff, maybe he’d hate ye less.

Mitch: I have the coughin’ and the wheezin’… accursed coal mines.

Jimmy: Yeah, sorry.

Mitch: Let’s go get a mug-o. I’m thirsty.

Jimmy: No. I want to hijack another silver train. Ain’t no way – dat, dat…

Mitch: Comon’ James. We’re loaded. Damn that old barkeep and his careful eye. Might actually have to pay ‘im off for a slug of the rotgut.

(They walk back to the Town Saloon)

Scene V.

Barkeep (from the bar): Mitch! I still have that giant black stain from when you spat on my favorite chair. Till you pay me back 8 dollars I ain’t lettin’ you back in.

Mitch (growling): Damn his memory. (Yelling to Barkeep) I can pay that, you know!

Barkeep (firing pistol): No yeh can’t, last I checked you were broke as my old man’s clock.

Jimmy: Man I want that whiskey, but it ain’t no party unless you’re drinkin’ with me.

Mitch: I ain’t stayin’ dry, cuz I need to breathe, all righ’?

Jimmy: Let’s go in. Get yer silver roll ready. Wait, do I hear another train comin’?

(Another train pulls up, this time loaded with dynamite, ready to be dropped off for the coal miners’ use, but the train is delayed to unload its cargo and get out of the station. Mitch and Jimmy, thinking that another silver train has come, change their courses and sprint over to the train station. Mitch coughs and vomits another huge puddle of black substance.)

Mitch (labored whisper and rubbing his mouth with his bandana): Score! This time I’ll steal as much silver as I can. (He has a coughing fit)

Jimmy (hushed whisper): We still got them sticks’o dynamite?

Mitch (coughing): Yeah!

Jimmy (hushed whisper): Blowin’ ‘at train up oughta expose more bars to clear dawn, easier grabs. Remember that, Mitchcake.

Mitch (coughing): Never will!

(Mitch coughs and strikes a match; Jimmy lights the dynamite and throws it into the train, hoping this time to rip a bigger hole than using knives. The curtain closes as the train explodes, with a score of casualties, including the engineer and all the crew. Mitch and Jimmy are blown into pieces.)

Epilogue:

Strike Leader: Well I never! (referring to Barkeep) Popov! Nice seein’ ya outta yer lodge. Always wondered why ya makin’ dough on booze.

Barkeep: Bah, outta fresh dough too often. Man’s gotta need a killin’ to raise a wife and children. Anyways, a barkeep’s got his reasons to dodge the sanctuary of his saloon.

Strike Leader: Ah, so ya finally seein’ the extent of alcohol on the people? (grabs bandana to wipe face) Pity those chaps, dead from burning dough from booze. That musta been a strange sight, to see that train blow up with a score of people innit.

Barkeep: So, old friend, shall we go for a drink, for old time’s sake?

Strike Leader: I’ll get meself a cuppa juice, I run dry, you know that.

(Barkeep and Strike Leader toast a mug of beer and a glass of juice.)

Strike Leader: One day, our men would learn that to solve their petty grievances of going broke by stealing silver was nothing but a disaster. It is clear from this failure of realization that there are far better ways to make money, and, hell, the mining corporations had just solved most of our biggest issues from within the mine by providing us with better equipment for safer work and promisin’ us some more dough. These two men were so broke that they had to resort to petty stealing to fuel their great needs for whiskey. Such behavior is nothin’ but failure, failure on the side of the Feds. Can they even see the effects that booze is havin’ on our young men? It’s nothin’ but a failure of not just them Feds, but all humanity. Drunkenness ain’t nothin’ but despair. We’d ought to be better without no booze. What happened to that score of men ain’t nothin’ but a tragedy, a huge one fueled by two foolish men with a bafflin’ problem. I’d say we’d be better off shuttin’ everythin’ down and stayin’ dry. What do you think, Barkeep?

Barkeep: Let us start a crusade of dry within Fannin County. There ain’t no way I’m watchin’ more young men face the same fate as them unfortunate fellows.

Strike Leader: Let us toast to for them lost souls, dead from two men’s binge boozin’.

Barkeep: For Jimmy.

Strike Leader: For Mitch.

Together: Cheers.

(The two take a large gulp of the drinks)

Barkeep: I’m shuttin’ down business. I sick o’ seein’ such devastation in our town.

Strike Leader: Them Feds’ll mightn’ something about it, but it won’t gonna be done till the cows come home.

(Barkeep puts a sign on his saloon that says closed permanently and locks the door. He grabs the rest of the money that he has in his saloon and leaves the place. Strike Leader takes one last look at the beat-up saloon, where so much has happened, and heads off to go take a passenger train to Washington D.C.).

End of Play