America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

For the next few days, Arthur and Lawson practically locked themselves in their office.

All of New York was trying to forget the pain. Bankers disappeared from their windows, workers lined up at relief stations, but the second page of the newspapers was still discussing European fashion and the yachts of the wealthy.

What Arthur has to do is turn this deliberate forgetting into dialogue on stage.

"The scene here is that the mayor wants to distribute bread to the slums, and Humphrey is trying to stop him."

Lawson typed as he asked, "What's the reason?"

Arthur barely hesitated: "Mayor, directly distributing bread will disrupt market mechanisms. Bakeries will protest, saying we're engaging in unfair competition. Flour suppliers will worry, saying we're interfering with the supply chain."

"More importantly, we need to set up a bread distribution oversight committee," which requires a budget, manpower, and office space. By the time all of that is arranged, winter will be over. And if we do nothing, at least we won't make any mistakes.

Lawson stopped typing and looked at Arthur:

"You're portraying inaction as a virtue."

"That's how Humphrey thinks. In his world, action means risk, and stillness means stability. Even if stillness means someone goes hungry."

Lawson continued typing, the keyboard clicking away.

"How did the mayor respond?"

The mayor would say, "But they're starving!"

"Humphrey would answer, 'Yes, Mayor. But if we hand out bread, ten times the number of people will line up tomorrow. Our warehouses will be empty, our budget will be overrun, and then everyone will go hungry. Right now, only a portion of the population is going hungry, which is sustainable.'"

Lawson shook his head:

"The trap of logic: using the possibility of future disasters to justify the present disaster."

Arthur explained, "That's the essence of bureaucratic thinking. Always worrying about that bigger problem in the future, to the point of ignoring the problems at hand."

They then discussed several scenarios: how to portray the embellishment of statistical data, how to reveal the emptiness of official language, and how to make the interaction between the three characters both comedic and poignant.

By the afternoon of the third day, the basic outline of the script had been completed.

The first act is called "Redefining," the second act is called "Shifting the Focus," and the third act is called "Emotional Compensation." These three acts showcase a complete bureaucratic response mechanism.

Just as they were getting ready to rest, there was a knock on the door.

Isabella pushed open the door, her expression somewhat complicated.

"Thomas Duane from The New York Daily News is here. He says he wants to talk to you."

Arthur and Lawson exchanged a glance. Lawson closed the typewriter, and Arthur tidied up the manuscript papers on the table.

"Let him in."

Thomas Duane frowned as he walked into the office. His neatly tailored suit clashed with the scattered papers and ashtrays on the floor.

"Mr. Kennedy, I heard you're writing a screenplay."

"Mr. Thomas, you're very well-informed. Please have a seat." Arthur leaned back in his chair, not getting up.

Thomas didn't sit down; he said directly:

"I'm here to advise you. Now is not the time to write satire. The economy is fluctuating, and people's hearts are unsettled. Your kind of play will only create unnecessary conflict."

Arthur smiled:

"Conflict? There are no bad guys in my script. The mayor wants to do good, the administrative director wants to maintain order, and the secretary wants to tell the truth. They just live in different logics."

Thomas said:

"The public won't see it that way. They'll see mockery of the city hall and rejection of current policies. This is irresponsible at this sensitive time."

Lawson interjected:

"Mr. Thomas, theater is art. Art has the right to criticism."

Thomas turns to Lawson:

"Art? When people are starving, art should offer comfort, not satire."

"A hungry person needs bread, but also needs to know why they are hungry," Arthur said calmly.

Thomas shook his head, his tone softening, but still sounding more like a warning:

"Kennedy, I admire your talent. But you have to face reality. No theater will put on this kind of play, no sponsors will invest. You're wasting your time and talent."

"Who said we need a theater?" Arthur stood up and walked to the window.

“New York is a stage everywhere. Dockyard warehouses, union auditoriums, church basements. And the audience…” He pointed to the street below, “They’re there every day, queuing, waiting, looking for a glimmer of hope.”

Thomas's expression froze. "You're going to perform outdoors? In those...places?"

"Why not? Art shouldn't be confined to a gilded cage. It should go where it's meant to go and see who it's meant to see."

"You'll be in trouble. City hall won't allow it. The police might intervene. It's too undignified."

"Dignity? When people are sleeping in cardboard boxes, dignity is a luxury. My play doesn't need dignity; it needs authenticity."

A few seconds of silence filled the office. Thomas looked at Arthur, then at Lawson, and finally at the thick stack of script drafts on the table.

"You'll regret this," he said finally.

"Maybe. But at least I tried," Arthur said.

Thomas left. The sound of the door closing was clearly audible in the quiet office.

Lawson breathed a sigh of relief.

He wasn't actually as confident as he seemed.

"Of course. If he were confident, he wouldn't have come all this way in person. He was afraid. Afraid that we actually succeeded."

"Afraid the audience will like it?"

"They're afraid the audience will start thinking. Once people start thinking, their 'everything is normal' excuse stops working."

Isabella brought coffee again. This time, she also brought news.

"The AFL has replied. Their auditorium will be available every night next week, and the chapter chairman said that many workers have volunteered after hearing about the play. Some people know carpentry and can help with simple set design. Some people used to be in a church choir and can handle the sound system."

Lawson's eyes lit up.

"Look, the theater has come to us by itself."

Isabella added, "Also, several students from the Columbia University Drama Club heard about the project and wanted to be assistants. They said they could help with copying the script and organizing rehearsals."

Arthur took the paper; it contained several handwritten names and contact information. At the bottom was a line of smaller print:

"We believe that art should speak, and should speak the language of the people."

Arthur looked at the words and a smile appeared in his eyes:

"Lawson, I think we can change the ending of Act III."

"What do you mean?" Lawson asked, somewhat puzzled.

Arthur explained:

"Let Haq stand on the stage and the crowd stand below. Haq's speech should be interwoven with the anger and cheers of the crowd, so that the audience can feel that no matter how exciting the story on stage is, the real story is in the audience."