Stories and Scripts: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

TITLE: AN EVENING IN MERCER HOUSE

DRAMATIS PERSONNAE:
JOHN BERENDT
JIM WILLIAMS

The scene opens with middle aged men sitting in large, luxurious chairs in a beautifully furnished room, facing one another. Famous paintings hang on the walls and antiquities line the room. The man on the right is Jim Williams, the owner of the home. On the left is John Berendt, a tourist who is interviewing Jim Williams for a travelogue he is writing. Jim Williams is a tall, dark, handsome man with classic features: a well kept moustache, hair graying at the temples and deep, black eyes. John is plain in comparison with his dark hair, a large nose, warm eyes and a welcoming smile. In the distance, a staircase is seen spiraling upwards towards an unseen skylight. The Victorian home is graced with 15 foot high ceilings and spacious rooms. Jim speaks very openly as John has a tape recorder in his hands and listens intently.

JIM: (taking a long drag on a cigarillo, speaking with a slight southern drawl) What I enjoy most (JIM pauses to exhale deeply) is living like an aristocrat without the burden of having to be one. (JIM pauses to think) Blue bloods are so inbred and weak. (JIM smiles. JIM is speaking calmly and without malice) All those generations of importance and grandeur to live up to. No wonder they lack ambition. I don't envy them. It's only the trappings of aristocracy that I find worthwhile – the fine furniture (JIM gestures around the living room as he lists these things), the paintings, the silver – the very things they have to sell when the money runs out. And it always does. (JIM smirks) Then all they're left with are their lovely manners. Anyhow, royalty is better. (JIM drops his cigarillo into a silver ashtray. A dark grey cat jumps up onto his lap and he begins to stroke its fur) You know, I'm apt to give you the wrong impression, living the way I do. But I'm not trying to fool anyone. Years ago I was showing a group of visitors through the house and I noticed one man (JIM stops stroking the cat to mimic what the man did) giving his wife the high sign. I saw him mouth the words 'old money!' Well! (JIM resumes stroking the cat) I took him aside and said 'Sir, I was born in Gordon Georgia. The biggest thing in Grdon is a chalk mine. My father was a barber and my mother worked as a secretary for the mine. My money – what there is of it – is about eleven years old.' Well, the man was completely taken aback. 'Do you know what made me think you were from an old family,' he said 'apart from the portraits and the antiques? Those chairs over there. (JIM gestures at the chairs in the left corner of the living room) The needlework on the covers is unraveling. New money would mend it right away. Old money would leave it as it is.' 'I know that,' I told him. Some of my best customers are old money.' (JIM laughs at his own joke).