Mad. Ave.

CHARACTERS:  Receptionist, early 20s; Beau Zarts, 35, writer in the Creative Department; Rory Tory, mid-50s, CEO; Emma Lou Fullcup, late 20s, Tory's confidential secretary; E.R. Vulch and Richard Fallick, late 40s, account executives.

SCENE:  Executive offices, J. Walter Tory Advertising Co.

SCENE ONE

The agency reception area.

(Receptionist is at her desk.)
(Beau enters.)

RECEPTIONIST:  Can I help you? Are you the plumber?

BEAU:  No, my name is…

RECEPTIONIST:  Are you sure? We called for the plumber. The men’s room is… indisposed.

BEAU:  My name is Beau Zarts. I have an appointment with Mr. Rory Tory.

RECEPTIONIST:  No one by that name is employed in this agency.

BEAU:  (Holding up a message slip) He asked me to come up (reading) “immediately if not sooner.”

RECEPTIONIST:  Mr. Tory just left the office and is having lunch with the mayor.

BEAU:  But he called me this morning.

RECEPTIONIST:  Mr. Tory is filming a commercial in Samoa and won’t be back until Tuesday.

BEAU:  (Pointing to message slip) He said immediately.

RECEPTIONIST:  Mr. Tory is in a trés importante meeting and cannot be disturbed. The doors are locked,
and no one gets in without a special pass. (Beau hands her a wadded piece of paper. She unfolds and
reads it, then fingers the intercom on her desk.) I have a Mr. Zarts here to see Mr. Tory. He says he
works here. In Creative, I think. (To Beau) Mr. Tory’s extremely confidential secretary, Miss Emma
Lou Fullcup, will come for you in a moment. We usually don’t have anyone from Creative up here.
Are you somebody special?

BEAU:  I don’t think so. I failed trigonometry in high school and my wife thinks I need to take dance
lessons.

(Emma Lou Fullcup enters.)

FULLCUP:  Mr. Tory will see you now. (Indicating his jacket) But not in that. 

(She goes to closet, removes grey suit jacket, and has Beau exchange it for his, although it is much too large. Emma Lou drops Beau’s jacket in the wastebasket as they exit.)

SCENE TWO

The executive conference room.

(Rory Tory stands at the far end of a long conference table next to a standing easel, on which is propped a large drawing of a bar of soap. Next to him is a small table with three basins on it covered with a cloth. Rory Tory is whacking the drawing with a long, wooden pointer. Richard Fallick and E. R. Vulch stand at attention on the other side of the table.)

TORY:  This is genius! This is what advertising is all about! (Quietly, to Vulch, gently laying the pointer on each
of his shoulders as if knighting him) You are a genius. America leads the world because America is
clean!

(Fullcup enters, followed by Beau.)

FULLCUP:  Mr. Tory, this is Beau Zarts, the senior writer sent up from Creative.

TORY:  (Touching Beau’s jacket with his pointer) Are you aware, young man, that J. Walter Tory has just been
voted the best dressed agency on Madison Avenue?  Well, never mind. (Indicating others) This is E.R.
Vulch, executive account executive on this (whacking easel) soap account. and Richard Fallick,
assistant executive account executive. Emma Lou, lock the doors.

VULCH:  (To Beau, shaking hands) Hi, how big is your office?

FALLICK:  (To Beau, shaking hands) Call me Dick. My office has a door and a carpet.

BEAU:  Actually, I have what they call a semi-deluxe cubicle.

TORY:  We’re onto something big here, Zarts, and you’re here to handle creative.

VULCH:  I live in Scarsdale. House in a cul-de-sac worth one-point-six.

FALLICK:  I have four acres in Westport. Four big acres.

TORY:  With a pool?

FALLICK:  (Crestfallen) No, no pool.

TORY:  I have a pool. In-ground. Shaped like a lima bean. Look, Zarts. We called you up because you’re
loyal, right? How long have you been with the Company?

BEAU:  Nine years, sir.

TORY:  That’s a lot of loyalty, son. This is the big one, the one we’ve all been waiting for. It’s big, very big.
And secret, very secret. What’s the most important thing in the Ad game?

BEAU:  Bigness, sir? Loyalty? Secrecy?

TORY:  That’s close, but no banana. (Whacks easel)
It’s the moolah, boy! And plenty of it.
Money pays the bills. Without it, you’re
poor and no damn good to the business. A
poor writer is a bad writer, isn’t that right,
Zarts?

BEAU:  Yes, sir.

TORY:  (Puts arm around Beau) Now, tell me, son.
What’s the most important thing next to
getting a new client—keeping an old one,
right? That’s why we need your help. Our soap client, Bigger Better Beauty Bar, is ready to pull up
stakes, but Vulch here has a great idea for a new soap. We convince them to add to their product list
and upsize their budget, we sell it on primetime TV, and everybody’s happy. OK, got it, Zarts? We’ll
give you a moment or two. (Tory, Vulch, and Fallick stand back, look at Beau, and wait.)

BEAU:  A moment or two to do what, sir?

TORY:  The name, sweetheart! What do you think this is, recess? We need to call the soap something, and
you’re it! Go ahead, give us a name.

BEAU:  But, sir, I don’t know anything about the soap.

VULCH:  You know it’s a soap, don’t you? What else is there?

FALLICK:  Is this your first agency job?

BEAU:  But I have to know something about the product, Mr. Tory. What it smells like…

TORY:  Sorry. All that information is classified. Why do you think I’ve taken all these precautions? Just so
Creative can run amok with secret information?

VULCH:  There are some things Creative just can’t know.

FALLICK:  You do your job, and we’ll do ours.

BEAU:  But how can I do mine if I don’t know anything about the product?

TORY:  Men, we may have to meet Creative halfway. All right, you want secrets, I’ll show you secrets. (To
Fullcup) C’mere, Yum-Yum. Take off your blouse. (She does so.) To show my good faith, there’s a
secret. (Pulls out a small microphone from her bra) Her breasts are bugged.

VULCH:  RT, you never told us.

TORY:  Now you know.

VULCH:  My blonde, blue-eyed wife will just die without one of those.

FALLICK:  My wife is 1/16 Jewish Cherokee, but I do have a beach house in the Hamptons.

FULLCUP:  Can I put my blouse back on, Rory honey? The air-conditioning makes me itchy.

TORY:  Sure, sure. Well, Zarts, satisfied?

BEAU:  Actually, no, sir. I still don’t know anything about the product.

VULCH:  You don’t really think Creative should know everything we do… ?

FALLICK:  That’s a good one. Next thing you’ll want is for us to meet with art directors and media people!

TORY:  Maybe he has a point. Son, just this once, Creative is going to see (Whacks easel) the whole
picture.

VULCH & FALLICK:  No, RT!

TORY:  From now on, this meeting is going to be open, above the radar. No secrets. We’re going to act as if
you’re not even here, Mr. Writer from Creative. Isn’t that right, men?

VULCH & FALLICK:  Yes, RT!

TORY:  Go ahead, show him the soap. (Fallick removes the cloth from the three basins of water, hands Beau a
bar of soap.) Wash your hands in the first basin with one of our competitor’s soaps. (Beau does so.)
Hands are clean, right? Water’s dirty?

BEAU:  Yes, sir.

TORY:  Now wash your hands in the second basin. Use another competitor’s brand.  (Beau does so.) Scrub
hard, that’s it. (Smacks conference table with pointer) Harder! OK, what do you see?

BEAU:  Nothing, sir. The water in the second basin is clear. No dirt at all. My hands are really clean now.

TORY:  That’s what you think! Now wash your hands in the third basin with our new soap. (Beau does so.)
Thata boy! Whataya see, whataya see?

BEAU:  Holy cow! The water’s filthy! What a soap! And I thought my hands were clean.

TORY:  You got it! Until today, America never knew about the hidden dirt other soaps didn’t touch.

BEAU:  Now I’ve got something to work with! What a product! What a discovery! What a formula!

TORY:  Formula? You mean like in chemical formula? To tell you the truth, I’m not sure there actually is a
formula.

BEAU:  But that cleaning power. There must be a secret ingredient.

VULCH:  Not so secret.

FALLICK:  Rather commonplace, you might say.

TORY:  Dirt. Plain, ordinary dirt. Every bar of soap will have built-in dirt. Vulch, I applaud you. You
deserve our cheers. Hip, Hip!

FALLICK & FULLCUP:  Hooray!

TORY:  Hip, Hip!

BEAU:  Yahhhh!!

TORY:  That was my reaction when I first heard the concept. I couldn’t contain my excitement.

BEAU:  YAHHHH!

TORY:  Isn’t it something the way old Vulch here brought home the bacon? You’re young, Zarts. Learn a
little from the pros. Now give me that name fast. J. Walter Tory has a big share of market waiting!

BEAU:  I… I…

TORY:  I want award-winning ads that (Whacking) sell! That (Whacking) entertain!

BEAU:  …quit!

TORY:  That’s not a good name for the soap. Wait, maybe it is. Sort of rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?  “I
quit.”  “I quit.”

BEAU:  No, I quit.

TORY:  You can’t quit. You haven’t named my product yet.

BEAU:  I QUIT!

TORY:  Remember, Emma Lou’s breasts are taking down every word.

BEAU:  (Goes close to Fullcup, speaking to her cleavage) Can you hear me in there? I QUIT!

TORY:  You’re jealous, is that it? You’re upset because Creative didn’t come up with built-in dirt? What, you
don’t want the responsibility? You don’t want to work on a million-dollar account? What do you
need? A raise? A new pencil? A chair in your cubicle? Profit sharing? No, forget that. What the hell is
it? I know your mother. You’re not happy here, she’ll kill me. You don’t like Fallick, I’ll kill him. My
creative people are all my children.

BEAU:  You can’t do that. You can’t market a soap with built-in dirt.

VULCH:  Why not?

FALLICK:  Sez who?

BEAU:  It’s not ethical. It’s not… clean.

VULCH:  I’ll bet he has another job offer.

TORY:  Fallick, tell him what legal said.

FALLICK:  Our ads won’t say there’s dirt in the soap. But they won’t say there isn’t any, either.

TORY:  Legal, schmegal. What counts is that this soap will make housewives happy.  America will think it’s
cleaner than it ever was before. It’s not a question of morals. It’s a question of morale.

BEAU:  I think I’m getting a migraine.

TORY:  Emma Lou, massage his temples. (Fullcup begins to unbutton her blouse.) With your fingers. I want a
name that begins with the letter T.

VULCH:  I’ve got it!

TORY:  Yes!

VULCH:  Trace. Trace doesn’t leave a trace.

FALLICK:  Trudge. Trudge doesn’t leave a smudge.

BEAU:  That’s trash.

VULCH:  Trash doesn’t leave a rash.

FALLICK:  No. No. Tragic. Tragic works like magic.

TORY:  I don’t like the word magic.

VULCH:  I’m thinking… Thunder. Thunder cleans like lightning.

TORY:  No, too outdoorsy.

FALLICK:  How about Truth?

VULCH:  No, Trust! The soap dirty people can believe in.

TORY:  I love it! (Embracing Beau) I knew we could get things done once Creative was in on it.

VULCH:  What happens now? (Indicating Beau) He knows too much.

FALLICK:  Our branch office in Tibet is nice this time of year. He can work on our yak milk account.

BEAU:  It won’t work.

TORY:  What are you, lactose intolerant?

BEAU:  No, the soap won’t work. Watch this. This second basin has clear water in it right? (Drops soap into
basin) Take a look. (Tory watches basin for a long moment then suddenly whacks it with his pointer.)
Untouched by human hands, the soap is dissolving all on its own, and the water is turning filthy.
That’s what will happen in shower stalls and soap dishes all over America.

VULCH:  Oops.

TORY:  Oops? I’ll show you oops. Emma Lou, book two one-way tickets to Tibet. (Approaches Beau)  Zarts,
you’re a true company man. I knew I could count on you. Emma Lou, bring our new vice president
here something to wear befitting his title. (Fullcup strips Vulch of his jacket and puts it on Beau.  It is
much too small.) Excellent! Say a few words, my favorite new vice president.

BEAU:  Thank you, Mr. Tory. I know I speak for all of us downstairs in Creative when I say we are ready to
provide workable solutions to all of the agency’s product problems. A soap with built-in dirt certainly
wasn’t the way to go. It would have been like trying to market a toothpaste with built-in yellow…

TORY:  What did you say?

BEAU:  …a toothpaste …with …built-in yellow…

TORY:  (Whacking conference table) Emma Lou, lock the doors! 

TABLEAU. CURTAIN.

DANIEL D. MOLINOFF

Daniel D. Molinoff is a New Rochelle, New York, writer and attorney with a BA from Colgate, a MS in journalism from UCLA, and a JD from Hofstra. A number of Dan’s poems, short stories, and articles have appeared in legal and literary magazines and in newspapers around the nation.