Having successfully introduced New York audiences to works by Teresa Deevy, a neglected Irish playwright of 1930s fame, Mint Theater Company now offers its “Meet Miss Baker” series to acquaint us with Elizabeth Baker, a mostly forgotten English dramatist of an earlier generation.
Inaugurating this worthy project is the Mint’s production of Baker’s The Price of Thomas Scott, which opened on Wednesday at Theatre Row.
According to the Mint’s typically informative playbill notes, Baker (1876-1962) was reared in a suburban London household of lower middle class means. Employed as an office worker, Baker attended the Court Theatre during its early 1900s heyday when it was premiering new works by Shaw and Granville-Barker.
Inspired to write realistic problem plays, Baker forged a name for herself with Chains (1909), which enjoyed a West End run, and she subsequently composed a number of dramas through the early 1930s, including The Price of Thomas Scott.
Originally produced in 1913, The Price of Thomas Scott studies a man’s crisis of conscience and how it affects his family.
Set in a London suburb, the three-act drama occurs over two days and takes place entirely in the back parlor of Thomas Scott’s business, which is attached to his home. (Vicki R. Davis designed the realistically sober yet homey setting.) With the help of his wife and two children, Scott owns and operates a shop that deals in fabric, haberdashery, and millinery.
But big department stores are usurping customers from family concerns like this one and Scott is struggling. Scott would like nothing more than to sell out and retire, but nobody is interested in taking over his business.
Let’s interject that social history bears directly upon Baker’s play: In the decade before World War I erupted in 1914, the advent of ragtime and snappy popular music incited a significant growth in social dancing among the middle classes. “Everybody’s Doing It Now,” Irving Berlin’s hit song of 1911, speaks to the dance craze that swept America and Europe during this period, which helped to clear away the stuffy remnants of Victorian culture.
As Baker quickly develops her story—the play runs only 90 minutes—the middle-aged Scott is revealed to be an old-fashioned Victorian in his outlook as well as a devout Christian active in local church affairs. Scott objects to theatergoing and dancing.
Yet, as Baker clearly details the character, Scott is scarcely a frosty bluenose. Genially embodied through Donald Corren’s portrayal, Scott is a pleasant man and a kindly soul who obviously is fond of his wife (Tracy Sallows), adolescent son (Nick LaMedica), and daughter Annie (Emma Geer).
Unexpectedly, Scott receives an offer to purchase his failing business for a large sum. With this money, he can comfortably retire and provide for his children’s future. Then Scott learns that the buyer intends to transform his well-situated building into a classy establishment for dancing.
Will Scott accept this devilishly tempting offer, or stick to his religious scruples?
The playwright provides half a dozen characters—neighbors and friends—some of whom are Scott’s contemporaries and others representing the younger generation, who deliver different points of view regarding the man’s moral dilemma. Relatively subdued in terms of dramatic action, The Price of Thomas Scott is a thoughtful, neatly crafted study in personal convictions that is reminiscent of John Galsworthy’s works. Serious students of drama will especially appreciate this quiet yet interesting play.
Jonathan Bank, the Mint’s producing artistic director, gives the drama a well-paced staging that is solidly performed by an eleven-member company. As Scott silently ponders his options, the interplay of conflicting emotions that crosses Donald Corren’s face is expressive. Vigorously played by Emma Geer, the vibrant character of Annie, who yearns to go to Paris to study high fashion, might well be Baker’s portrait of her ambitious younger self.
While the Mint’s playbill notes do not mention the rise of social dancing during the early 20th century, the director meaningfully acknowledges it twice. During the first act, while the elder Scotts are away at chapel, Annie and several chums clear away some furniture and proceed to dance. As they gingerly waltz away, designer Christian DeAngelis recolors the lighting into dreamy lavenders, the simple piano accompaniment turns lush, and the dancers briefly twirl through some fantasy ballroom paces.
Finally, after the play ends and the actors take their bows, the company goes into a Charleston. This bout of 1920s dancing wryly suggests how, only a decade after The Price of Thomas Scott first appeared, everybody indeed would be doing it.
