Assins

Times and places collide on stage as Assassins tackles the dark side of American politics, American culture and the American Dream. The inner motives of nine people who tried (some successfully) to kill our President are revealed using American musical styles from Civil War ballad to contemporary pop songs. Hysterically funny and often unsettling.

Characters: John Wilkes Booth, charismatic, disturbed actor (who killed Lincoln, 1865) baritone

Leon Czolgosz, poverty-worn young radical (pronounced Chole-gosh, killed McKinley, 1901), bari/bass

Giuseppe Zangara, angry, heavily-accented immigrant (tried to kill FDR, 1933) Must hold an A.

Samuel Byck, hysterically irate schlep in a Santa Claus suit (tried to kill Nixon, 1974)

John Hinckley, depressed college student (tried to kill Reagan, 1981) baritone/ pop voice

Lee Harvey Oswald, dejected shipping clerk planning suicide (killed Kennedy, 1963) Non-singing

Balladeer, an omniscient Woody Guthrie-type who should be able to play guitar, folk tenor

Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme, pixie hippie in love with Charles Manson (tried to kill Ford, 1975), mez.

Sara Jane Moore, frazzled housewife (tried to kill Ford, 1975) soprano

Ensemble: Emma Goldman, anarchist & feminist; David Herold, Booth's confederate; a bartender; a shooting gallery proprietor; Sara Jane Moore's 9-year-old Billy; Presidents Garfield and Ford; reporters, photographers, tourists, bystanders, citizens, etc.

Special Requirements: Light to below average. A unit set with moveable pieces can suggest the scripted locales: A shooting gallery, a barroom, a barn, a park bench, a car, an exhibition hall, the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository, a sidewalk, Hinckley's rec room, an electric chair.

This show has many elements usually associated with plays, which is one of the thing that makes it such a musical milestone. In casting, turn a special eye upon actors who can sing, rather than singers who can act.

One idea that has worked well with other productions is to plan after-show discussions of the piece with the audience to further enrich its meaning and unique power.

Author John Weidman has commented that the show is more like a revue than a book musical, meaning it's not a celebration of the assassins' actions but a peek into their minds. That makes "Something Just Broke," which documents the average citizen's reaction to assassinations, a pivotal emotional moment for an audience.

Don't forget that we can send you the Video Conversationpiece(tm) with the authors discussing the show in greater detail.

note: a vertical line next to part of the lyrics indicates an overlap in singing

A shooting gallery at a carnival. Shelves of prizes. The target figures are all men, dressed formally in various fashions

from the last two hundred years. The Proprietor stands behind the counter.

Four-fifty. Ivor-Johnson. .32. Rubber Handle. Owls stamped on the sides.

(He puts his money on the counter, and the Proprietor hands him the gun. Czolgosz slowly examines it as John

(He shows Czolgosz how his gun opens and closes as Charles Guiteau enters.)

(He pays the Proprietor, who hands him a silver-mounted .44. Giuseppe Zangara, a tiny angry man, enters, groans and

(Samuel Byck enters, dressed in a Santa Claus suit, carrying a sign which reads: SANTA SAYS, ALL I WANT FOR

(Byck turns around, revealing the other side of his sign: TO PEACABLY PETITION MY GOVERNMENT FOR THE

(Byck goes to the counter. As he pays for and receives a gun from the Proprietor, Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme enters

and eyes the shooting gallery with interest. At the same time, Sara Jane Moore enters and moves toward the booth,

(As Fromme plays with the gun, Moore is spilling keys, credit cards, lipstick, etc., over the counter.)

(Moore finds her money; Proprietor gives her a .38, which she accidentally points at his stomach.)

(They turn to face the targets, raising their guns. Just as they are about to shoot, Hail to the Chief is heard, then a voice

Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln!

(Booth looks up at an imaginary theater box, then leaves. A gunshot offstage.)

(The inside of a tobacco barn in rural Virginia is seen. It is night. John Wilkes Booth sits on the floor, a pair of crutches

(He takes a tattered diary out of his pocket and starts to write. The door opens, and David Herold rushes in.)

No! Have you seen these papers? Do you know what they're calling me?! A common cutthroat! A hired assassin! This one

We must have been mad to think we could kill the President and get away with it!

We did get away with it! He was a bloody tyrant and we brought him down! And I will not have history think I did it for a bag

An indictment. Of the former President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln, who is herein charged with the following High

One: That you did ruthlessly provoke a war between the States which cost some six hundred thousand of my countrymen their

Two: That you did silence your critics in the North by hurling them into prison without benefit of charge or trial. Three --

Booth! I have fifty soldiers out here, Booth! Give yourselves up or we'll set fire to the barn!

(Herold rushes out. Booth lunges for him and collapses; to the Balladeer)

I have given up my life for one act, you understand? Do not let history rob me of it's meaning. Pass on the truth! You're the only

(He puts his gun to his head. Blackout on Booth. The sound of a gunshot.)

That was President-elect Franklin D. Roosevelt, ladies and gentlemen, speaking to a crowd of supporters here in Miami's

beautiful Bayfront Park. A group of notables are pressing in around the President-elect's car. There's Mayor Anton Cermak of

There's been a shot! I can't see -- wait! Mr. Roosevelt is waving! He's all right! But Mayor Cermak has been hit! The police

have somebody in custody. An immigrant. Giuseppe Zangara. We take you now to a group of eyewitnesses who will tell us

(They pull their triggers; the men's guns click; Moore's goes off.)

The Pan-American Exhibition in Buffalo, New York. Czolgosz watches some fairgoers in line waiting to shake hands

Single line, ladies and gentlemen. Line forms here to meet the President of the United States. Single line to shake hands with

Charles Guiteau stands at the foot of the gallows, the Hangman waiting at the top of the steps.

(steps backwards to the bottom, then with resolution starts up again)

I did it because it is wrong for one man to have so much service when other men have none...

I did it do bring down the government of Abraham Lincoln and avenge the ravaged South...

I did it so they'd suffer in the North the way we'd suffered in the South...

I did it so there'd be a trial, and Charlie would get to be a witness, and he'd be on TV, and he'd save the world!...

(They advance on the Balladeer, forcing him off the stage, then turn front.)

The sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository. There is a clock on the wall and, on a shelf, a radio, through

which is heard country-and-western music. Faint street noises from outside. Lee Harvey Oswald sits on a carton of

books reading a note he has just written. Beside him are a lunch pail and a long package.

That was the Blue Ridge Boys and Heartache Serenade. And now we take you live to KTEX --

(Oswald turns off the radio, re-reads the note, opens the lunch pail and pulls out a pistol. As he puts it to his head, he

Oh! I'm sorry. I was just browsing. Please carry on with whatever you were --

(He notices the pistol; Oswald flushes and shoves it back in the pail. Booth indicates the clock.)

Is that the right time? Yes? I don't know what's the matter with this watch. Excuse me for a moment --

-- speaking to you from Love Field, where tthe President's plane has just touched down and is taxiing toward us across the

(Oswald stalks over and snaps the radio off. Booth picks up the note.)

Dearest Marina. Today I end my life so that your life can begin. Last night --

We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot here. It's my fault. I shouldn't --

Alik. You used to like that nickname. Back in Minsk. Marina said Lee sounded Chinese, so she called you Alik. Of course I

I know lots about you, Lee. Let's see...Born, New Orleans, October 18, 1939. Father, Robert, died before your birth. Crazy

mother, Marguerite. Dropped out of school at 17. Joined the Marines. Court-martialled twice. Defected to the Soviet Union,

October 1959. Defected back, June 1962. Married, Marina Nikolaevna. Two children, June and Rachel. Current employment,

stock boy, Texas School Book Depository, Dallas, Texas...Oh. And this morning, depressed over your estrangement from a

wife who views you as a dismal and pathetic figure, you rose before dawn, kissed your sleeping children, put your last hundred

dollars and your wedding ring into a demi-tasse cup which Marina's mother gave you for a wedding present, and came here to

You bastards think you are so smart. I know my rights. You try to interrogate me in my place of business I can sue you for

The F.B.I. You really love those morons, don't you? Hell, why wouldn't you? No one else cares if you live or die. Those guys

can't get enough of you. "How was your day, Lee? Sell any secrets to the Soviets? Sabotage any defense plants? Kick off your

Lee. I'm sorry, Lee. It's just so sad. I mean, it's all you ever wanted, isn't it? Someone who won't leave you alone. Someone

who wants to hear about your day. Someone, anyone -- your mother. Mother Russia. The Marines. Your wife

It's from a play, Lee. About a salesman. A man very much like you, Lee. Independent, proud, a decent man who tries and tries

but never gets a break. So he does something really dumb. When things go really sour, when he realizes that his whole life has

been a failure built on lies, he kills himself. And when he's dead, his wife stands at his grave and says attention must be paid.

She has to beg the world to pay attention to this poor, misguided nobody. I'll tell you something, I'm an actor, Lee. And I'm a

good one. But Willy Loman is a part that I could never play. And I don't think that you should play it either.

You want what everybody wants. To be appreciated. To be valued. To be in other people's thoughts. For them to think of you

and smile. You want someone to love you, Lee. Right?...Isn't that it?...Lee?

No, I think you're going to kill yourself because you think that's how to get it. "When I'm dead, then they'll be sorry! When I'm

dead, they'll know how much they loved me!" When you close your eyes you probably see the funeral, don't you, Lee? A

There's Marina, weeping quietly. Your sobbing children clutching at her skirt. Your mom, your dad. Every boss who ever fired

You think it's dumb?! If I shouldn't kill myself what should I do?! Go home?! Beg her to take me back?! Plead with her?! Beat

His plane landed at the airport fifteen minutes ago. He's coming into town to make a speech. His motorcade is going to go right

He didn't come here to get shot...All your life you've been a victim, Lee. A victim of indifference and neglect. Of your mother's

scorn, you're wife's contempt, of Soviet stupidity, American injustice. You've finally had enough, so how're you planning to get

Lee, when you kill a president, it isn't murder. Murder is a tawdry little crime; it's born of greed, or lust, or liquor. Adulterers

and shopkeepers get murdered. But when a president gets killed, when Julius Caesar got killed -- he was assassinated. And the

Ah! You know his name. Brutus assassinated Caesar -- what? -- two thousand years ago, and here's a high school drop-out

with a dollar twenty-five an hour job in Dallas, Texas, who knows who he was. And they say fame is fleeting...

This is stupid. Up here on the sixth floor, what would I do? Throw school books at him?

(Booth tosses the package to Oswald, who opens it, revealing a high-powered rifle.)

That's a Mannlicher-Carcano. 6.5 millimer. Stopping range 900 yards. The sight's already been adjusted.

Attention has been paid...All your life you've wanted to be part of something, Lee. You're finally going to get your wish.

The past you never had, the future you'd abandoned -- it's called history, Lee.

My name is Charles Guiteau. I assassinated President James Garfield.

(The Assassins applaud. They crowd in around Oswald, patting him on the back, reaching for his hand. He shoves

Lee, I'm sorry. I know things are happening kind of fast here. But you can't leave now.

Not anymore, Lee. Fifty years from now, they'll still be arguing about the grassy knoll, the Mafia, some Cuban crouched behind

a stockade fence, but this -- right here, right now -- this is the real conspiracy. And you're a part of it.

Listen to me, Lee. You have to do this. Now. You won't get another chance.

So what? So I'll do something else. I'll shoot my wife. I'll shoot my kids. I won't shoot anyone! Who cares?!

He wants to know who cares...I care, you stupid fool! We all care! Haven't you been listening, for Christ's sake?! Are you

The K.G.B. official who de-briefed him in the Kremlin -- what was his name and rank?

Lee. Eighteen years form now, when John tries to assassinate President Reagan, they're going to search his room, and do you

know what they're going to find? Every book about you ever written.

Take a look, Lee. You know what that is, outside that window? That's America. The Land Where Any Kid Can Grow Up To

Be President. The Shining City, Lee. It shines so bright you have to shade your eyes. But in here, this is America, too. "The

mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." An American said that. And he was right. But there are no lives of quiet

desperation here. Desperation, yes. But quiet? I don't think so. Not today. Today we're going to make a joyful noise. This is

the big one. You're the big one. You're the one that's going to sum it all up and blow it all wide open. Why, after you...

What the hell...Is Artie Bremer here tonight? Where's Artie Bremer?!

Why do these rednecks always have three names? James Earl Ray. John Wilkes Booth --

-- and now the motorcade is turning onto Ellm Street. There's someone holding up a banner. "All the Way with JFK." The

President is smiling and waving as his car heads for Dealy Plaza where it will swing past the Texas Book Depository and --

(Booth snaps his fingers -- the radio goes off. He holds out the gun.)

They'll hate you with a passion, Lee. Imagine people having passionate feelings about Lee Harvey Oswald...

(Zangara steps forward, speaks in Italian. The Assassins translate.)

It's in your grasp, Lee. ALl you have to do is move your little finger. You can close the New York Stock exchange.

In Florence, Italy, a woman will leap from the Duomo clutching a picture of your victim and cursing your name --

(He holds out the gun. Oswald takes it and crouches at the window.)

(Oswald fires. Silently, the Assassins leave. Oswald turns, lurches to his feet, takes his lunch pail and goes out. Booth

returns, picks up Oswald's suicide note, takes matches from his pocket and burns it. A slide is projected upstage: the