Milk and Water Scene I

Jules Crepeau, as a boy. My grandfather, Director of Municipal Departments of the City of Montreal between 1921 and 1930, started at City Hall at 12. At 15 he was message boy in the Health Department, which is very useful for my play, Milk and Water about Montreal in 1927.

Here's The First Draft of the First Scene: All Rights Reserved Dorothy Nixon 2011 (Whoops, 2012)

Montreal, Quebec, September 2, 1927. 

Scene One.

Mayor from his office at City Hall: Allo. Mr. Crepeau. C’est Mayor Martin. Vous êtes rentrer chez vous. Très bien.

Jules Crepeau (from his home at 72 Sherbrooke West): Comment peux je vous aider, Monsieur le Mayor.

Mayor: Monsieur Crepeau. I will speak in English as I have a representative of the Royal Prince in my office.

Jules: D’accord. Your Worship. So will I answer in English. What is the problem?

Martin. Problem? No problem. I have a personal favour to ask of you, on behalf of our esteemed Royal guests. All in the strictest confidence, of course.

Jules: Comme Toujours. As always

Martin: Do you remember that Westmount bloke with the bottled water company, with the bullshit name?

Jules: Thomas Wells?  What’s bullshit about the name?

Martin: Not that name, the name of his company. Laurentian..ah

Jules: Spring Water.

Martin: Yes, the company that sells water it pumps from under Craig Street. Near our giant sewage collector.  So, Bull Shit.

Jules: Yes, well, I believe I have met him just recently. 

Martin: He’s the short older man with the very very tall young wife.

Jules: Oh, yes, the amiable man with the very tall and very thin and very outspoken young wife.

Martin: The same man.

Jules: What about him?

Martin: Well, we need some of his bottled water delivered tonight to one of the mid-town dance clubs.

 Jules: Why?

Martin: Because the Royal Prince and friends might turn up there later on.

Jules: I understand.

Martin. The thing is, I would like 3 gallons delivered, merely as a precaution of course, but no one is to know. No one except  Mr. Wells – and you.

Jules: So he is to deliver it himself. Alone? The President of this company?

Martin: Yes. Discretion is of the utmost importance.

Jules: I see. I'll do  my best. But I'm not sure I'll be able to reach him on such short notice.

Martin: I’ve already taken care of. The thing is, ah,  I would like you to meet him at 11.pm in front of the Mermaid Cafe.

Jules: 11. pm. The Mermaid Cafe? But, I just got in, myself.  There was a meeting of the City Improvement League.  And you know how those ferocious Presbyterian Ladies refuse to ever let you go home.

Martin : Unfortunate. Do you know the address of the Mermaid?

Jules: How could I not?  It’s got a (clears throat) certain widespread reputation.

Martin: Well, well. You are speaking about the excellent dance music, I presume. But the Prince will not show up until after midnight. He is tied up at some stuffy dinner party at the top of the hill, probably at Ravenscrag.

Jules: May I ask, with all due respect, why can’t get His Royal Highness get his own people to bring the bottled water. The Ritz Carleton has hundreds of bottles stored in the basement, I’m sure, what with this latest typhoid..ah.. problem. The Radnor People from Three Rivers are the Official Suppliers.

Martin: The thing is, this, ah, is not an official kind of outing. The Royal Prince is hoping to slip away from his handlers for a few hours.

In fact, this is a personal favour he is asking me, as a personal friend.  Don’t worry, I am sending over one of our more ambitious young police officers, un grand gaillard, to perform the heavy work.

All you and Mr. Wells, have to do is can stand outside with the water and wait. You don’t even have to go in. The Prince and his party will enter by the side door. Only then do you have the jugs delivered.

Jules: If it’s after midnight, everyone enters by the side door, I imagine.

Martin: Well, be that as it may.  Apparently, there’s a very good Jazz band playing tonight, from Kings of Harlem or Harlem Kings.  The Prince is young. He has a keen interest in modern forms of music.

And you recognize all the city reporters.

Jules: But they recognize me, too, as the person who, just a year ago, announced to the entire Montreal press corps the firm new closing hour of 12 am for dance clubs.

Martin: Jules. It’s the Royal Prince. Que voulez-vous?

Jules: Yes, of course. I understand.

Martin: You will be pleased to know, he specifically asked for you. His people thought you did a wonderful job organizing the official reception at City Hall a month ago.

Jules: You mean where we invited about 1,000 too many guests and where the Prince kept glancing at his watch and yawning between handshakes. I’m still fielding angry letters from society matrons who never made it into the reception line.

Martin: Well, yes, yes, That’s done then, I can count on you.

Jules: Certainement, Your Worship. (Hangs up the phone.)

Toujours quelque chose.

Little Girl: Papa?

Jules: Tu es encore debout, Marthe? Ou est Maman?

Girl: Elle prie dans le salon, avec Florida and Cecile.

Jules: Tu dois prier aussi.

Girl: Je n’aime pas prier. C’est ennuyeux. Peut tu me raconter un histoire?

Jules: No, Il faut que je sorte.

Girl: Juste une courte. Je pars pour couvent demain, tu sais.

Ah, Je ne peux pas ma chouette.

Mais je veux que tu restes.  S’il tu plait.

Jules: Nous avons eu de bons temps à Atlantic City, il y’a deux semaines.

Marthe:Tu n'étais presque jamais avec nous autres. Toujours des meeting.

Jules: Les rendezvous.(Kissing sound).  Bonne nuit, ma petite. Je promet de t'ammener au couvent moi-même demain.

Slam of door.