Jamie Jobb's Backstage Pass: August 2021

“Float like a butterfly,
sting like a bee.”
– Muhammad Ali

Beware: South Beach pickpockets

Vandals in Sandals

South Beach Spell Check

a snowbird crime caper in one act

by Jamie Jobb

All characters, neighborhoods, vagrants, detectives,

cops, judicial officials and fashion designers

portrayed in this play are fictional fabrications.

No identification with actual beaches, paint stores, cafes,

topical communities, shaving creams or sentient

beings – alive or deceased – should be inferred

as none was intended.

jamiejobb@gmail.com

Traveling Light Studio

P.O. Box 12

Martinez, CA 94553

925 723-1782

CHARACTERS

MORTIE SAULSBERG,

unknown spray-paint artist, Jewish, 76

BERNIE SAULSBERG,

his insomniac brother, Jewish, 72

VINNIE BONANNO,

their best friend, Italian, 74

HAROLD “HANDLEBAR” WAXMAN,

South Beach Police chief, caucasian, 56

RICHARD “DICK-THE-DICK” DICKENS,

South Beach Police detective, caucasian, 58

SARGE MARGE,

independent law enforcement contractor, unclassified, 33

SETTINGS

THE BEACH, downstage center

MACARTHUR CAUSEWAY, upstage center

NEWS CAFE, downstage left

SBPD DETECTIVE BUREAU, upstage right

Scene One

Miami’s South Beach – summer,
very early morning.

MacARTHUR CAUSEWAY – 3 a.m.

Three elderly ex-gentlemen, all septuagenarian
insomniacs, are out all night again:
brothers MORTIE and BERNIE SAULSBERG
with their “best friend” VINNIE BONANNO.

AUDIO (off): waves wash against concrete,
occasional auto passes above.
PROJECTION: incomprehensible graffiti on causeway wall.

Mortie, Bernie and Vinnie wear Birkenstocks with white socks, sloganized t-shirts and baggy denim shorts. Each man shakes a pair of Spray Paint Cans. Each spray paints upstage wall with both hands’ cans.

AUDIO: serious spray paint. Seagulls and waves awash.

As others paint, Mortie steps back from wall
to admire their work.
Pause.

MORTIE (snaps upright): Drek!

BERNIE: Cops?!?

MORTIE: Worse … (reads) “In these uncertain times … of radical
danger and extreme peril and... each and every one of us – big
and small – must keep our vigilant eyes wide open … to avert
Kat … Ass … Trophy.”

Suddenly Mortie sprays paints Vinnie.

VINNIE: Hey, whaddya doin’?!?

MORTIE (still sprays): Chillul hashem!

BLACKOUT

Scene Two

NEWS CAFE – 4 a.m.
MORTIE, BERNIE and VINNIE sit al fresco at table.
They take menus from WAITER.

AUDIO: distant music and in-line skates roll by.
PROJECTION: outdoor tables and sign “News Cafe”.

MORTIE (orders): Fried Egg Ham Cheese on French.

BERNIE (orders): Smoked Salmon Cream Cheese Omelette – hold
the onion.

MORTIE: Get the Bagel!

BERNIE: No gluten!

MORTIE: Oy …

VINNIE (orders): Benedictine Eggs Florentine.

MORTIE: ... Gevalt. Food for a Pope! Gives me the greps.

Pause. WAITER exits.

VINNIE (kissing up to sky): What’s not to love about early breakfast?
Spinach-to-die-for is made-in-heaven here!

BERNIE: Quit the vitz!

MORTIE (grabs Vinnie’s nose): I’m gonna give you a close
shave to-die-for! (belches)

BERNIE: Can’t you spell?

MORTIE: We spendt (sic) all night on that Holy Installation. That
blessed Sacrament of a Religiously Correct Statement. I rewrite it all out for you in long-hand cursive writing ... Our New Testament To Apocryphal Times we’re livin’ here in South Beach. Then you go out and ruin it. A typo!

BERNIE: You ruin it ... one can a’ paint!

VINNIE (perplexed): Only cost five bucks ...

BERNIE: We get "Misty Gray" free alla time. Home Depot dumpster ... .

VINNIE: North Beach?

BERNIE: Keystone Island!

VINNIE: How you know? You’re afraid of Keystone cops!

BERNIE: Hey klutz, you know I’m afraid of heights!

VINNIE: Don’t drive, can’t swim … Whatsamatteryou?!

MORTIE (now boiling): Shut up, shmendricks! … (grabs
Vinnie’s collar) I’m gonna shave your skinny dago head, Vinnie Bananas! South Beach don’t miss you. Ever since you come back you been the real “catastrophe” around here. (lets collar go) Catastrophe-in-the-ass!!!

VINNIE: Honest Mortie, I thought it was spelled with a “K”.

BERNIE (spells it): K-A-T-A-S-S-T-R-O-P-H-Y?

MORTIE (sarcastic): The full … KAT … ASS … TROPHY!!!

BERNIE: Nudnik! It’s spelled with a “C” ... only one “S” ... and
no “Y” at the end!

VINNIE: I’m horrible at spellin’.

MORTIE: What’s worse, you drew it out … with a cat, a tuchus …
and a trophy!

VINNIE (proud): I’m very good at drawin’!

MORTIE: Idiot! You ruined my whole night’s preparation,
execution and hard work. Not to mention blasphmering (sic) our belabored prayer service!

BERNIE (beat): Coulda been a Masterpiece!

MORTIE: Never used “Ultramarine” before, only “Tidal Blue”. I
had flow (posing)… My Aerosol-Artistic Talent attuned to the Full Faith and Credit of God Almighty Himself. (beat) I can’t help it if He chooses to speak through me! The lastunorthodox Hebrew … for Jesus on the beach!

BERNIE: We know, you go with your flow … Gabriel blow … that horn!

Beat.

VINNIE: Sure it ain’t a “K”?

MORTIE: Get a dictionary!

BERNIE: Look it up!

MORTIE: Don’t take no genius.

VINNIE: How can I look it up if I can’t spell it out!?!

MORTIE: Ask your librarian!

BERNIE: Borrow some goyim dictionary!

Mortie stands, takes Waiter’s check, pockets it.

BERNIE: Ask somebody!

They all stand and leave table.
PROJECTION: Ocean Drive sidewalk.
AUDIO: traffic and street ambience.

MORTIE (walks): Ask anybody … some kid with a cell phone!

VINNIE: Whose got cell phones around here? (pulls out cell phone).

Vinnie waves cell phone at PASSERBY who enters left.

VINNIE: Anybody wanna buy a phone?

PASSERBY ignores comment and continues on, exits right.

MORTIE: Always a deal! Put that away!

Vinnie puts away cell phone.

BERNIE: We skipped out on the check again.

MORTIE: Neophyte waiters never learn.

Pause.

MORTIE: Gentlemen, take a knee!

In unison, all drop to one knee as each prays,
palms together, eyes closed.

MORTIE: Our Heavenly Father, please forgive Vinnie Bonanno here
for his unoriginal sin of misspelling “catastrophe” for the second straight night in a row … And for drawing that nasty picture of some kind trophy on-a-wall to further confuse The Issue ... Not to mention The Reader ...

VINNIE: Not a trophy – an hour glass!

BERNIE: Shut up, klutz. We’re prayin’ here!

MORTIE (palms still together): Oh, Monumental Master, God the
Curator … You have fully informed us through your Commandments and selected Scriptures that all walls are vernacular art galleries waiting to be painted by-the-people-for-the-people – The People’s Art ... Your holy advice to us is quite clear. It is no crime to spread Your Word on Our Walls.

VINNIE: Better slogans, pray for that! Too many words. Too
many letters. Make ‘em shorter!

BERNIE: You through?

VINNIE: … Yeah.

MORTIE (palms still together): Lord knows Thy Will Be Done – even
if we have to do it over and over again. We know you don’t like things all paskudne ... Especially when they’re speldt (sic) out wrong. So, Dear Heavenly Host, please help Vinnie find the inner strength to follow Your Gracious Penmanship and my Very Clear Manuscripts …

VINNIE: Not all that clear!

BERNIE (one eye open): Still prayin’ here!

Pause.

MORTIE (palms still together): Our Most Gracious Messiah furthermore forgive our
Trespasses for not completing your Good Works in the most timely manner as expectedtonight on MacArthur Causeway. As you know, we ran out of our favorite colors, “CardinalPink” and “Sacred Scarlet” – at the very same moment when nobody was open but The News Cafe. Of course they don’t sell aerosols. We know that’s no excuse for not getting Your Most Holy Work done on time. And on budget!

Mortie glares at Vinnie.
Suddenly he bolts upright, closes his eyes and
drops into a Trance, now on both knees.

MORTIE (Trance Voice): Oh Great King of Hosts, I am now prepared to receive
Your Word for tonight’s walls …

Bernie grabs pen and notepad to
frantically transcribe Mortie’s words.

MORTIE (Trance Voice): Quote: “Murder our sons. Kidnap our daughters.
But keep your hands … “

Mortie starts to shake, mumble and then topples over.

Pause.
This has happened before.

VINNIE: Adonai!

BERNIE: Amen!

Pause.
Mortie slowly gets up unfazed.
Others rise slowly, open their eyes.

BERNIE: Tonight again, then? (to Vinnie) No more deals!

VINNIE (recites): “Pockets in the daytime. Paint at night.”

ALL (fists up to sky): Tonight ... Let’s get it right!

LIGHTS

Scene Three

DETECTIVE BUREAU Conference Room – 8 a.m.

Getting acquainted are South Beach Police Chief
HAROLD “HANDLEBAR” WAXMAN – who comprehends Yiddish,
and federal consultant “SARGE MARGE” SARGENT – who doesn’t.

Waxman hands Sarge Marge coffee.
They look at map of South Beach.

AUDIO: distant phones and two-way radio.
PROJECTION: Detective Bureau – interior.

WAXMAN: … And the ‘stache was so long it always needed waxing – my partner
started calling me “Handlebar”. Nickname stuck. Now everybody calls me “Handlebar Waxman”. Except of course when they call me “Chief”.

SARGE MARGE: Good coffee, Chief. Why’d you shave it off?

WAXMAN: Recently remarried. She threatened to hang teacups on it!

SARGE MARGE: Remarriage’ll do that to a man. Ask Samson.

Waxman taps and swipes his smartphone.

WAXMAN: Detective Dickens was detained at a domestic crime scene in Normandy
Shores. Traffic up there can be murder. You’ll be working directly with him. He’s our best inspector in the Bureau.

SARGE MARGE: I look forward to meeting him. What’s his nickname?

WAXMAN: Well (chuckles) … he’s Richard Dickens … so of course our detectives
call him “Dick-the-Dick”. But he’s no shmuck. Dick Dickens is one of the finest sworn officersI’ve ever worked with. Tough. Thorough. No-nonsense. Credit to the Department for thirty-nine years.

SARGE MARGE: Let him pull rank with that handsome handle.

Beat.

WAXMAN: What’ll we call you round here, Sergeant? As a tactical consultant,
you’re outside rank.

SARGE MARGE: “Marge Sargent” has always been “Sarge Marge” at work.
Even when I was Lieutenant (beat) or Major. Everybody calls me “Sarge Marge”.

WAXMAN: Well, you’re in luck, Sergeant (sic). Your initial detail is South Beach
(points to map) … around MacArthur Causeway. Serious vandalism from the Ferry Terminals to The Continuum Condominium.

SARGE MARGE: Thank God. I thought you’d put me on condo sinkholes.

WAXMAN: We know the vandals are shmegegges with a spelling problem.

SARGE MARGE: Typically, what do … shmegegges … wear?

WAXMAN: Denim. Can you handle denim?

SARGE MARGE: I can handle denim. I can handle lace. But I’ll never handle
a pretty face, unquote. Willie Van Zandt-Nelson. Jerry-Jeff McMurtry. One of them Austin songwriters.

WAXMAN: Appreciate the Lone Star sentiments, Sergeant, but these are
uncertain times of extreme peril here at the Gateway to South America. There’s so much laundry money. So much loose cash. Lotta loose cannons too. One big chase scene, like Miami Vice. You guys didn’t get that in Dallas.

SARGE MARGE: Houston … Chief, I’ll take any assignment you toss my way –
Celebrity jocks, art frauds, inside traders, petty pickpockets (clenches fist) I’ve caught ‘em all.

WAXMAN: Oh, this isn’t petty, No.

SARGE MARGE: What is it then?

WAXMAN: Taggers.

SARGE MARGE: Taggers?

Pause.

WAXMAN: Serious criminal taggers. Serious … serial taggers. Serious … illiterate
taggers. But not bored teenagers, no – they’re trying to make some kind of statement. May be political terrorism or worse – blackmail.

SARGE MARGE: That’s a tough one.

WAXMAN: We can’t keep up with these guys. They hit The Causeway, we
clean it up. Then they hit The Seawall, we clean that up. Then they hit The Causeway again.Endless.

SARGE MARGE: Enterprising shmegegges.

WAXMAN: They’re not nudniks, that’s for sure!

SARGE MARGE: Sounds pretty harmless.

WAXMAN: It’s felony vandalism with intention to inflict economic harm upon
the very lifeblood of South Beach. Tourism won’t tolerate graffiti! Besides, the Department isn’t ready for another death by “conducted energy device”. We don’t need another “excited delirium” case on our hands. That “Reefa” episode was far too tragic for all concerned.

SARGE MARGE: Taser?

WAXMAN: Correct. Our man happened to hit the vandal, an 18-year-old, in exactly
the wrong spot in his chest. (points to map) These South Pointe taggers work very very late at night. And they can’t spell at all. Nobody’s been able to catch ‘em in the act.

SARGE MARGE: Don’t they have Spell Check?

WAXMAN: Obviously not. As you know, Homeland Security is convinced their
misspellings are some kind of Secret Code.

SARGE MARGE: Correct.

WAXMAN: All their messages are visible from any vessel in Government Cut.
For all we know, they might be immigrant terrorists – Middle Eastern zealots. They could be setting up some kind of premeditated inter-coastal shipping disruption. Sabotage a cruise line. Sink a tug. Clog the Cut. I don’t know. You tell me.

SARGE MARGE: Of course. Hiding in plain sight. Like iceberg lettuce. (beat)
In Government Cut!

Pause.

WAXMAN: I know you Canadians believe climate-change crap and The Titanic Myth,
but we don’t get icebergs in the Sunshine State. Spray paint shmucks cost South Beach twomillion this quarter alone. Vandalism abatement is a big deal at City Hall. Particularly during Snowbird Season. These vandals work as a team. They must spend a small fortune on spray paint. The Mayor thinks they have something to do with the mysterious Chalk’s Ocean Air Flight 101 that closed the Cut.

SARGE MARGE: Wasn’t that a problem with a so-called “wet wing”?

WAXMAN: That’s always been unclear. All we know is someone’s putting ‘em
up to it. It’s our job to stop ‘em.

SARGE MARGE: I’ll nail these (enjoys saying it) “shumcks” …

Waxman hands Sarge Marge a file full of reports.

SARGE MARGE: I don’t care what they wear!

WAXMAN: And we don’t care how you do it!

LIGHTS

Scene Four

NEWS CAFE – 8:30 a.m.

MORTIE, BERNIE and VINNIE sit. They sip coffee.
WAITER awaits them. Vinnie eats croissant, studies menu.
Finally he waves away WAITER who exits left.

AUDIO: in-line skates and traffic.
PROJECTION: Ocean Drive sidewalk seating.

VINNIE: This place is still way too expensive!

BERNIE: Don’t matter.

VINNIE: Can’t afford it after slim pickens on the beach.

BERNIE: We never pay. They never notice!

MORTIE: Inattentive waiters never learn … I miss Wolfie’s! Right there at the
center of everything. Lincoln Road and Collins. You could afford it! Meyer Lansky walkin’ in.And The Famous on Washington. Alla good kosher food … gone.

BERNIE: Joe’s. We still got Joe’s Stone Crab. Last kosher stand on South Beach!

MORTIE: Ain’t the same Joe’s.

BERNIE: Ain’t the same crabs.

MORTIE: Certainly ain’t the same South Beach.

BERNIE: Whole place creeps me out now.

MORTIE: Damn Marielitos. Latino Americano Chaco-Lattes ... Euro-Trash!
They ripped us off big time. Stole our Promised Land right out from under our bare feet! Emanu-El – hell!

Pause.

MORTIE: Long before Vegas, every Big Shot in America wound up
here … DuPont. Lansky. Vanderbilt. Capone ... Alla Big Shots in alla Hot Spots: The Surf Club. The Bath Club. Cabana Beach Club. Fountainbleu. Eden Roc ... Miami Beach was the epee-tome (sic) of class.

BERNIE: Everyman had to own a tux.

Pause.

MORTIE: The horses, the dogs, the jai alai … “Ladies and gentlemen,
place your bets!” … Cassius Clay at Fifth Street Gym, jogging down Alton Road in the fog. Sinatra and Crosby at The Roney. Jackie Gleason at The Auditorium … “and away we go”! Our South Beach was the center of the universe.

BERNIE: I saw Gleason alla time. Collins Avenue. Wolfie’s!

MORTIE: Alla stars landed here. Bob Hope. Jack Benny. Joey Bishop. Dean Martin.
Jerry Lewis. Uncle Miltie. Martha Raye. Elvis. Dietrich. Chevalier. Nat King Cole … Seventy-Two: Nixon and Agnew! Liston and Clay ... Our mafia! Their mafia. A rabbi on every corner ... Larry King! Austin Burke ...

BERNIE: Li’l ole Burkie – going-out-of-business again! (beat) Nobody
bumped off nobody … unless you crossed the Mob!

VINNIE: I was on Larry King radio once. Called in, cut me off. Putz.

BERNIE: After the Marielitos, all we got is crime, loud music and murder. Israel
“Reefa” Hernandez rest-in-peace. Giovanni Versace rest-in-peace.

MORTIE: Nobody knows who none of those guys are no more. (hard beat)
All gone and all forgotten ... Nobody knows nothin’ about none of it now.

BERNIE: Adonai!

MORTIE: If they didn’t get ripped off by the boatlift, the old South Beach
Hebrews just wandered off.

BERNIE: Moses shows up in South Beach now – we’re the only Jews left.

VINNIE (beat): He’ won’t part the sea for just two guys!

Long pause.
Vinnie eats his croissant.

VINNIE: This ain’t Carnegie Deli, that’s for damn sure. Leo Steiner, rest
his soul. Why can’t you get no decent pastrami in this town? No decent pastries. No knishes.

MORTIE: Shut up klutz, eat your French Toast. (beat) Whadda you know …
Leo Steiner? You got your own Mafia roots, you don’t get to be Jewish too.

BERNIE: It’s Friday. Eat your fish!

MORTIE: Eat your Sonny’s Pizza, Junior Capone!

VINNIE: “Oy vey iz mir!” Can’t a Sicilian eat anywhere in peace!?

Bernie and Mortie are shocked
Vinnie pronounced his Yiddish right!
Pause.

MORTIE: Sun’s up soon. Let’s get over beach before she closes. Where we goin’?

BERNIE: Thirteenth Street.

MORTIE: No gays today, pick a straight beach.

BERNIE: Twelfth Street?

MORTIE: Don’t mess with me, Bernie Saulsberg.

BERNIE: Ninth Street?

MORTIE: No nude beach.

VINNIE: No pockets to pick.

MORTIE: No nudes is good nudes when all our nudes is over the hill!

Pause.

BERNIE: Not like the girls up on Twentieth Street …’ey ... Place Pigalle.
Them days we had big nights.

MORTIE: And big fights.

BERNIE: Those girls could shake ‘em!

VINNIE: We hauled wallet all night long.

MORTIE: How’d you know? You were in Hollywood, California. Surfin’ with Fabian.

VINNIE: I worked for Cedricks of Hollywood (sic) … Heard all about it.

Vinnie takes off sandal and begins to trim his toenails.

BERNIE: They’re old now … those girls.

VINNIE: We’re old.

MORTIE: Can we stop the mishegoss vitzing and focus here. I wanna
knock off early so we can rest up for painting tonight. We gotta do this one right. There’s hell to pay from The Man Upstairs if we screw up again (notes Vinnie’s bare foot) …Vinnie, cut that out!

VINNIE: That’s what I’m doin’. You know I can’t sleep when my toenails get too long.

MORTIE: Nobody sleeps around here. What beach we invadin’ today?

Pause.

BERNIE: Seventh Street?

VINNIE: Hate Brazilians.

MORTIE: Get the haircut.

WAITER enters, puts down check, takes plate, exits.

VINNIE: Let ‘em wax your mustache.

MORTIE: Grow your own mustache.

After WAITER exits, Vinnie pockets check.

MORTIE: Let’s go get paid.

Vinnie limps as they hurry off left.

LIGHTS

Scene Five

NEWS CAFE, moments later.
WAXMAN and SARGE MARGE enter right
to sit with menus.

AUDIO: in-line skates and Ocean Drive traffic.
PROJECTION: News Cafe sidewalk seating.

WAXMAN: Best breakfast in South Beach. Like the name implies: it’s where we
get our news. Rank officers don’t eat here much. Few detectives still do. (checks smartphone)Dickens says he’s running late from a task force in Lauderdale.

SARGE MARGE: Yet to meet the man. Heard a lot about him.

WAXMAN: He’s just getting back to speed. Long disability leave. Bad back – kept

tellin’ him to get a new chair. We don’t push him too much these days. (beat) I thought we’d start your South Beach restaurant orientation here. We’ll end up at The Diner soon enough. I think you’ll like this place.

SARGE MARGE: World famous, right?

WAXMAN: You mean for Versace. July Ninety-Seven, he comes here for breakfast
and his copy of Grazia, other fashion rags. Then he goes home to get shot by a gay prostitute. In his own doorway. Three blocks from here. Blood all over his Cosmo and Vogue. We nabbed the guy right away. Gay serial killer. People still come here for the homage. And the eggs any style. (beat) 24 hours-a-day. Right across from the beach. (reads menu) You see everything sitting here.

SARGE MARGE: Can’t see Government Cut! (reads menu) … Salami. Prosciutto.
Kosher salami. But no pastrami. No corned beef. How can you eat here?

WAXMAN: Can’t have corn.

SARGE MARGE: There’s no corn in corned beef! Cows ate the corn!

Puzzled pause. Waxman continues with menu.

WAXMAN: Has to be kosher for me. Strictly, devoutly kosher.

SARGE MARGE: It’s organic, free-range corned beef!

WAXMAN (looks up from menu): Can’t eat Cornish game hen either. Allergic.

WAITER enters.

SARGE MARGE: I know what I’m havin’ … (orders) Coffee. Steak and Eggs … Coffee.

WAXMAN (orders): Crab Cake Benedict.

WAITER exits with menus.

SARGE MARGE: When do I get to meet the Dolphins? The Heat?

WAXMAN: We got field passes if you wanna check out Joe Robbie Sunday.

RICHARD “DICK-THE-DICK” DICKENS,
casually-dressed trim man of middle age, enters.
Waxman and Sarge Marge stand.

WAXMAN: Dick-the-Dick!

DICKENS: Hey Handlebar. How many left?

WAXMAN: Three twenty four …Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Dickens acknowledges Sarge Marge with a nod.

SARGE MARGE: Office Lottery?

WAXMAN: Worse – my retirement! (turns to face her) Sergeant
Marge (sic), meet Dick Dickens. Best Jewish detective in The Deep South. Although he’s first to tell you he’s a recent convert to The Faith.

Sarge Marge extends her hand to Dickens.
They shake. Dickens grimaces at her grip.

SARGE MARGE: Call me “Sarge Marge”.

DICKENS (shakes own hand): Will do.

They all sit. Dickens hangs pair of
Night-Vision Goggles on chair.

WAXMAN: Just been discussing menu options.

DICKENS: Can’t eat. Stuffed us in Lauderdale. Sal’s Catering.

WAXMAN: Oy, you’re gonna feel that tonight.

DICKENS: Gonna get the greps.

WAITER arrives with plates and menu for Dickens.
Dickens declines menu, WAITER exits.

WAXMAN: Dick’s got some thoughts on this South Pointe graffiti gang.
He’s convinced there’s an ethnic edge to it. Based on their artwork.

DICKENS: These are not goyim.

WAXMAN: Right.

DICKENS: I’ve assembled some data back at The Bureau. We’ll look at surveillance
video, some stills and my night-vision footage. Nobody matches any face-recognition or gait-recognition profiles we have (beat) Buncha pishers.

WAXMAN: Ploshers and pishers.

Sarge Marge gives Waxman a quizzed look.

WAXMAN (translates): “Blowhards” and “nobodies”.

SARGE MARGE: I’ve never worked with kosher cops before! They’re
gonna love hearing about this back in Moose Bend. We don’t get ethnics in the outback.

DICKENS: Wait ‘til you meet our muy macho Latino Americanos!

As they eat, Sarge Marge kicks Something under her seat.

SARGE MARGE: Huh?

She reaches under and pulls up
a single Birkenstock sandal,
covered in spray paint.

SARGE MARGE: What the heck? (holds up sandal) What’s
this doin’ here? A Gizeh!?!

DICKENS (astonished): You know ... Yiddish!?!

WAXMAN: That ain’t Yiddish.

Sarge Marge carefully examines the shoe.

SARGE MARGE: It’s German. Kind of a sandal. A Birkenstock.

WAXMAN: A sandal? I thought “Gizeh” had to do with Pyramids?

DICKENS: The Sphinx.

SARGE MARGE: Gizehs go way back. Nobody wears ‘em anymore.

WAXMAN: You’d be surprised. This is South Beach ...

DICKENS: … No fad is too old to die here.

SARGE MARGE (inspects sandal): Do they spray paint ‘em "Misty Gray"?

Dickens hands Sarge Marge Night-Vision Goggles.

DICKENS: You’ll need these:Government surplus.

SARGE MARGE (takes them): I know. “Shades in the daytime; goggles at night.”

LIGHTS

Scene Six

MacARTHUR CAUSEWAY – 3 a.m. - next morning.

MORTIE, BERNIE and VINNIE
spray paint wall with both hands’ cans.

AUDIO: seagulls and waves. Serious six-can spray paint.
PROJECTION: incomprehensible graffiti on causeway wall.

Mortie stands back to admire their work.

MORTIE: Bummerkeh! (to Vinnie) You some kinda bum in drag?

BERNIE: How you spell “security”?

VINNIE: What “security” you talkin’ ‘bout?

MORTIE: “S-E-C-U-R-I-T-Y” … not “S-I-N-C-E-R-I-T-Y”!!! (reads)
“Towers may fall ... Bridges may crumble ... Mayhem bewilders us ... But nothing will humble … our Homeland Sincerity!!!” Not even close ... Idiot!

BERNIE: Get new glasses.

VINNIE: Don’t wear glasses.

BERNIE: Get contacts.

MORTIE: Another Holy Catastrophe. Two screw-ups by you. (beat) We can
get killed doing this kinda God’s work. Remember Israel, whats-iz-name … “Reefa”. That kid killed by the cop with the taser. For spraying McDonalds up on 71^st Street?

Pause.

MORTIE: I’m too old to get killed!

BERNIE: Me too.

VINNIE: Taser? That’s gotta hurt, dyin’ like that.

Mortie shoves flash card into Vinnie’s face.

MORTIE: I get you smaller words. Simple messages. You still screw
up. Two chances to redeem ourself – you mess ‘em both up.

Mortie stands with finger pointing at wall as he reads.

MORTIE: This one’s even worse. (reads) “Murder our sons. Kidnap our daughters.
But keepa you hands. Offa our sea otters ... Burma-Shave.” Unquote. What kinda stupid mammal you think I am, huh? Sea otters?

BERNIE: You lived in LA too long. Man, we got manatees.

VINNIE: They’re all just animals that swim the sea.

BERNIE: They don’t eat the same things! Sea otters eat seafood.
Manatees eat vegan.

VINNIE: Hey, it’s a typo – honest mistake.

MORTIE: God don’t make typos. Certainly not on South Beach – where everybody
can see every dang thing danglin’ out. (beat) What’s the whole point of our Holy Art Projects, huh? So people can see ‘em in public. Evaluate ‘em. Read ‘em. And weep! So they take home the Holy Lessons that we got to teach ‘em.

VINNIE: I tried to make it read easy.

MORTIE: “Burma-Shave” is easy by you!?!

BERNIE: What’s with you and “Burma-Shave”?

VINNIE: Like the old highway signs. “He had the ring. He had the flat.
But she felt his chin. And that was that ... Burma-Shave”! Unquote. It means “the end” and I always put it at the end, where it belongs.

MORTIE: You keep your editorial ideas to yourself, Vinnie Banana.
God’s doin’ the talkin’ and I’m doin’ the transcribin’. You didn’t take no Two-Hundred-Dollar Hebrews-for-Jesus Prayer Seminar. You don’t know how to pray for The Chosen People. So don’t go addin’ words to my Divine Spiritual Guidance.

BERNIE: God’s got enough mouthpieces without you throwin’ in your
two cents alla time.

MORTIE: Shut up! Take a knee.

Vinnie, Bernie and Mortie drop to one knee.

MORTIE (palms together): Heavenly Father, we pray you shall find
a place in your vast celestial cardiovascular system to forgive Vinnie The Impetuous Italian for all his uncontrolled transgressions, his uncoordinated colors and his gross misspellings ...Some day – when he deserves it – Your Holy Highness may give him another chance to prove worthy of your trust in this humble profession that barely pays nothin’ for any real Fine Art to get done with enough proceeds to share-and-share-alike.

BERNIE: Share the love, share the proceeds!

VINNIE: Hallelujah!

MORTIE (palms still together): We furthermore are aware that you
have bestowed Supreme Confidence to put that ball back into our hands with seats in the house and the game on the line in the bottom of the ninth ... So we won’t let Your Heavenly Highness down. Again. (beat) But please, send us some smaller words so that Vinnie spells ‘em right.

VINNIE: Amen!

BERNIE: Adonai!

The VANDALS exit.

Sarge Marge appears in shadows,
lurking on hands and knees.

She wears Night-Vision Goggles
and notices a footprint. She examines it.

Sarge Marge takes out her smartphone
and scans shoe print.

AUDIO: loud camera shutter. Metal gate closes.

LIGHTS

Scene Seven

The Beach – 10 A.M.
Mortie And Bernie Stare Across An Empty Horizon.
They Are Perplexed.

AUDIO: squishy sand under sandals.
PROJECTION: waves along an empty Atlantic beachfront.

BERNIE: We still get the food stamps

MORTIE: Sure, and you still get your “unemployment’” … Where’s Vinnie?

They both look around.

BERNIE: Late again!

MORTIE: How’s he say it (beat)“detained.”

BERNIE: Maybe he’s diving "Misty Gray"?

They still look around.

Parallel Scene at News Cafe
VINNIE enters on hands and knees,
looking for his lost sandal …

MORTIE: Can’t do God’s work with only two brothers. Can’t haul
wallets without backup. Hell, we can’t even pray proper!
Takes at least three people to be respectfully reverential – not
like we’re having a seder.

BERNIE: We don’t know ten guys! We only know Vinnie?
Everybody else we know left town.

MORTIE: It’s not just Vinnie’s stupid misspellings. It’s his stupid
sense of syntax! “Homeland Sincerity” – Where’s he been since Twenty-Oh-One?!? The man is totally fartoost.

BERNIE: He gets distracted. Sips the shnaps.

MORTIE (makes fist): Stop defending him alla time … (pulls back)
He don’t show, we don’t go … Take a knee.

BERNIE: Just a quickie!

They both drop to a knee, eyes closed
and palms pressed together.
Pause.

MORTIE: Our Most Heavenly Father, forgive us for we are about to Trespass
and Take Possession of goods and services unworthy of our attention, much less our largess. But we don’t get much Social Security no more. And we need to rustle up the cash somehow. Just to eat!

BERNIE: Got that right.

MORTIE: Most Holy Lord and Master we thank Thee for giving us the best end
of the beach to make ends meet in the middle of these overflowing tourist pockets. Also, most Gracious God Almighty, let it be known to you that we are ready to receive Your Good Word whenever you wanna send it. (beat) Or if you just wanna send Gabriel, we’ll show him a good time again.

Mortie and Bernie stand up.
Pause.
They glare at the empty waves.

BERNIE: Nobody’s goin’ in the water.

MORTIE: It stinks – just like the Olympics.

BERNIE: What’s that smell?

MORTIE: Blue-green red tide?

BERNIE: Rio smelled like that.

At NEWS CAFE Vinnie still crawls on hands and knees.
… ends up at feet of SARGE MARGE who wears Night-Vision Goggles
and lifts Vinnie straight up.

SARGE MARGE: Hello!

SARGE MARGE and VINNIE exit right.

MORTIE: How’d you know? You weren’t there.

BERNIE: They smelled it on tv. NBC had good noses for news down there:
Bob Costas. Mary Carollo. Rio – that stinkin’ catastrophe!?!

MORTIE (shocked): Olympics? What’s to watch?

BERNIE: Beach volleyball.

MORTIE: That’s no sport.

BERNIE: Lovely footwork, but the beach smelled. Don’t matter; we lost cable.

MORTIE: Nobody has cable.

They look out at the Atlantic.

BERNIE: Nobody’s in the water.

MORTIE (checks watch): It’s early.

BERNIE: We ain’t gettin’ paid today.

MORTIE: Shut your pisk; we got another turkey to fry.

BERNIE: Beach bums with a freezer full of Costco turkeys.

MORTIE: We’re OK until they cut off the power again.

Suddenly VINNIE enters. He wears only one sandal.

MORTIE: Where you been?

BERNIE: Sippin’ the shnaps? It ain’t lunch yet.

VINNIE: I lost a sandal. Can’t find it nowhere. (lifts his “bare” foot)
This sand’s sure hot today! (looks around) Where’s everybody?

LIGHTS

Scene Eight

DETECTIVE BUREAU Interrogation Room
– mid-afternoon.

DICKENS, WAXMAN and SARGE MARGE
sit at table with Birkenstock Gizeh Imprint.
Upstage is two-way mirror (Scrim).

VINNIE awaits interrogation off stage.

SARGE MARGE: I knew it … Birkenstock tracks!

DICKENS (examines imprint): A man and his Birkenstocks …

SARGE MARGE: We’ll ship this sample to Houston so our folks can analyze it.
But it seems quite a good match. His shoe tread fits tracks in the sand at the crime scene. A Gizeh, just like we suspected. "Misty Gray" flecks all over …

DICKENS: Quick work. (aside) Too quick.

SARGE MARGE: Who knew? ...Vandals in Sandals!

WAXMAN: Shlocks in Birkenstocks?

SARGE MARGE: Now that we got the goods, I’ll get him to talk.

DICKENS: What if he’s not the talkin’ type?

WAXMAN: We’ll see about that.

WAXMAN smiles at Sarge Marge and exits.

SARGE MARGE: He’ll talk all right. I’ll make him say anything we wanna hear.
Nobody fools an FBI-certified familial DNA phenotyper. We’ll get to the bottom of this pretty quick.

DICKENS: Phenotyper?

SARGE MARGE: We search for similarities in the evidence. Don’t
need exact matches to build a case. We find their ancestry, geographic range, natural eye and hair color – all from a DNA swab. I can even model probable face and skin recognition features, to predict things like freckles. Or other hard-to-know traits like big feet.

DICKENS: That’s Whiz Bang stuff. How you know you got it right?

SARGE MARGE: Familial DNA can’t tell how someone looks exactly.
But it can give lots of good hints. That’s my expertise. I take hints …

DICKENS: Hard for our budget to keep up with new tech, much less “hints”.

SARGE MARGE: New tech stretches back to the Pharaohs, forensically
speaking. But we’ve moved far beyond fingerprints, shoe prints, bite marks. All we need now is a little bit of tissue from anyone we suspect… somebody who was at the crime scene and left us tiny clues.

DICKENS: Too tiny to see?

SARGE MARGE: Perhaps … but we get more accurate results now
than we ever did, although … I admit enhanced deposition techniques have served me quite well.

AUDIO: one loud knock.

WAXMAN (off): Sergeant ... in-coming …

SARGE MARGE (to Dickens): Get behind the mirror ...

Dickens moves behind Two-Way Mirror (Scrim)
He is visible to us … but not to Vinnie or Sarge Marge.
Dickens pulls out a small camera.

SARGE MARGE: We’re ready.

WAXMAN re-enters with Vinnie in hand-cuffs.

SARGE MARGE: Vinnie … Vinnie Bonanno! Aren’t you
in enough trouble with The Law already?

VINNIE (puzzled): Sarge? … Marge!?!

Vinnie can’t close his mouth. WAXMAN exits.

SARGE MARGE (reads file): All your frivolous lawsuits: thrown out of court.
The last one: Run over by a topless Brazilian wearing in-line skates. Judge gives her leniency. And his robe. She gets off. You get two years. Two years! Who gets two years for getting run over by a topless Brazilian?

VINNIE: You want bottomless?

SARGE MARGE: Hey! It’s Brazil! Take what you can get.

VINNIE (sheepish): Brazil botched the Olympics … they screwed up their beach.

SARGE MARGE: … You mob rats are alla same --- guilty, until you
sell out! Then you start hanging out with evangelistic Jews for Jesus … Prayin’ alla time. Eatin’ deep-fried turkey for Thanksgiving. That shoulda been your first clue, Vinnie Bananas.

VINNIE: They’re my friends. We deep-fry for the High Holy Days!

SARGE MARGE: Some friends! DNA swab produced your phenotype. Toenail
clipping embedded into your Birkenstock. Your toenail, Vinnie! Enough DNA on it for a perfect match. That and alla other circumstantial evidence makes a clear-cut case of domestic terrorism.

VINNIE: Why does everybody think I hate Brazilians. I hate Portuguese!?!

Suddenly, Sarge Marge puts Vinnie in hammer-lock
with straight-jacket device that further constrains him,
and tape over his mouth so he cannot speak.

Behind “Mirror”,
DICKENS takes photos.

SARGE MARGE: I found your Gizeh at News Cafe. You stiffed the waiter … again!

Sarge Marge won’t let Vinnie go.
Muzzled Vinnie tries to talk, can’t.

SARGE MARGE: I found your footprints at the Causeway …

Vinnie’s arms flail as Sarge Marge clamps down.

SARGE MARGE: … your fingerprints on the paint cans ...

Vinnie mumbles in pain.

SARGE MARGE: Your sandal was covered in peanut oil – evidence of deep-fat frying!

Sarge Marge lifts Vinnie off floor.

SARGE MARGE: Finally, I know "Misty Gray". She’s my partner. My soul mate!

Sarge Marge is menacing, up close to Vinnie’s nose.

SARGE MARGE: I take this very very personal! She’s Portuguese!

Sarge Marge lifts Vinnie off floor,
shakes him like a rag-doll
Tape falls off.

VINNIE: I confess! I confess!

SARGE MARGE: You can’t confess until I let you!

Sarge Marge throws Vinnie down to floor.

Dickens continues to take photos …

VINNIE: I confess. They did it ... Bernie and Mortie Saulsberg.
They wear Gizehs too!

SARGE MARGE: Hey! I ain’t the fashion police!

VINNIE: They’re Jewish – I’m not, (beat) I’m Italian!

SARGE MARGE: Versace was Italian. He found that out the hard way. (beat)
Vinnie, you can’t be The Mob all by yourself. You need a … Mob.

VINNIE: I got a name. I’m a Bonanno. I’m famous history around here.

SARGE MARGE: Tell that to the Rooskies.

Sarge Marge tightens her grip on Vinnie.

SARGE MARGE: We nailed you on your Gizehs
… and your favorite color, "Misty Gray". (jams fist
into Vinnie’s chest) Why you pick that color, Vinnie?
Your prints are all over the crime scene. You can always
tell a man by the toenail inside his Birkensocks (sic)!

Sarge Marge pushes Vinnie upstage, finds tape.

SARGE MARGE: Oh, Vinnie. Vinnie … I know you’re not the Big Fish.
No, you’re somebody’s little sardino. Some mama’s bambino. (slaps Vinnie’s head) ...Homeland Sincerity begins in the home, you know. We always say: “If you see something, say something!”

Dickens continues to take photos …

Vinnie still flailing, Sarge Marge reattaches tape.

SARGE MARGE: You were a bartender in Greece, chef on a cruise ship, crop-duster
in Mexico. There’s nothing you can not do!

Vinnie still tries to talk.

SARGE MARGE: And you got a best friend who never set foot out of Miami Beach.
You can’t even drive him over the city limits. He jumps out of the car … So, answer me this riddle and we’ll let you go … How’s the rabbi clean a swimming pool?

Vinnie squirms, flails and mumbles through his muzzle.

SARGE MARGE: I can’t hear you? … How’s the rabbi clean a
swimming pool?!

Vinnie still trying to answer.

SARGE MARGE: Time’s up … you lose! How’s the rabbi clean a
swimming pool … Gelfite fish!

Sarge Marge still has Vinnie in full
straight-jacket hammer lock.

SARGE MARGE (pulls out Statement): Now … I have a confession
for you to make. (reads Statement) “I, Vinnie Bonanno, being of sound mind and furry body, did not act alone in this criminal action described and incorporated herein ... In fact, I did not act at all ... The real actors were the actual named defendants named herein and incorporated into the instant case. But I swear … they did it … more than I did ...”

Sarge Marge pulls off muzzle, drops Vinnie.
Vinnie falls to the floor.
Dickens takes photos.

VINNIE (holding his neck): OK-OK-OK! I’ll sign anything … Let me go!

WAXMAN reenters room,
puts on handcuffs
hauls off Vinnie.

SARGE MARGE: Mozel tov!

LIGHTS

Scene Nine

DETECTIVE BUREAU Interrogation Room
– later afternoon.

MORTIE and BERNIE sit together alone,
WAXMAN enters with projector.
DICKENS remains off, behind the
Two-Way Mirror with camera.

WAXMAN: You boys love South Beach. You’ve lived here all your
life. Bernie, you’ve never left the city limits! So, here’s a little tour of our town for your enjoyment, put together for you by the good folks at Miami Beach Chamber of Commerce.

BERNIE: South Beach should get the Olympics! We’d make a billion!
We should have the Winter Olympics too – for the Snow Birds!

MORTIE: Nobody remembers nothin’ on Miami Beach. History
gets lost in closets, drawers, boxes.

AUDIO: The Jackie Gleason Show theme song.
PROJECTION: Fifth Street Gym.

WAXMAN exits.

MORTIE: Piece of World Heavyweight History … rubbed out by
a French Bread shop!

BERNIE: Remember Pat Putnam!?! He’d get us in alla time! Liston,
Patterson, Clay. (beat) We’d use Pat’s password: “Herald Schwartz!”

MORTIE: Bastards took his name off the Boxing Writers Award.
Ain’t the same blood sport no more. I miss Putnam!

PROJECTION: Temple Emanu-El on 17^th Street.

MORTIE: Even our temple went south.

BERNIE: Yeah! Temple Emanu-El … Rodriguez!

MORTIE: A blight upon the holy building.

BERNIE: Two tacos with every Torah.

PROJECTION: Holocaust Memorial.

BERNIE: This places creeps me out.

MORTIE: Why?

BERNIE: It’s a botanic garden for Chrissake!

MORTIE: Wasn’t always there.

BERNIE: What?

MORTIE: That hand …

BERNIE: Climbin’ out of the mud. With alla people stuck to his arm.

MORTIE: Holocaust Memorial!

BERNIE: Hey, I know what that is!

PROJECTION: Miami Beach Convention
Center – 1972 GOP Convention.

BERNIE: Nixon wouldn’t recognize it!

MORTIE: He’s dead!

BERNIE: We wouldn’t recognize him!

Mortie suddenly turns to confront Bernie.

MORTIE: You’re 72 years old! You were born here … You never
left town ... Not once ... How come you never told me that?

BERNIE: I been busy; you go away so often. If I leave the island, they’ll be
none of us left. Not one. Last two unorthodox Jews on South Beach. The ones who don’t want out of the wilderness!

SARGE MARGE suddenly enters …
dressed in kinky boots, whip, etc.

LIGHTS SHIFT

(torture noir)

SARGE MARGE: What kinda Jews for Jesus are you? … Are you
Christian Zionist? Or Hebrew Christian? I gotta know. Confession … it’s a religion with me!

Sarge Marge cracks whip.

SARGE MARGE: You boys need a good Christian shlonging.

BERNIE (to Mortie): Vinnie threw us under the bus.

MORTIE: I don’t see a bus. I only see a witch with a whip.

Sarge Marge begins to twist them in knots
as her whip cracks …
She wraps Bernie and Mortie into straight-jackets.

SARGE MARGE: What have you got to say for yourselves?

Pray for yourselves!

MORTIE: I confess: we’re not working for God. We’re working for Castro!
(whip crack) I killed JFK. And LBJ! (whip crack) I worked on false-flag high-rise demolitions! (whip crack)

BERNIE: Make her stop! (whip crack)

MORTIE: You always had low pain tolerance. (whip crack)

BLACKOUT

Scene Ten

BEACH – moonlight – 3 a.m.

VINNIE stares into dark Atlantic.

AUDIO: waves tickle sands of an empty beach.
PROJECTION: the vast Atlantic horizon, moonlit.

SARGE MARGE enters.

SARGE MARGE: Bravo, Mr. Bonanno! Command performance.

VINNIE: Got that right, Sargent Amigo.

SARGE MARGE: Another outrageous undercover adventure.

VINNIE: That’s why they call us the dynamic duo!

SARGE MARGE: It’s much too much fun trappin’ those goons – like fish
in a pickup truck.

VINNIE: They can’t tell an Italian from a Mexican.

SARGE MARGE: We sure “learned ‘em”, didn’t we?

VINNIE: Your Enhanced Interrogation Tax Dollars at work!

SARGE MARGE: Let’s hear ‘em pray for that back home.

VINNIE: Sign up now for our Pay-To-Pray Program!

SARGE MARGE: Two hundred grand a pop,

VINNIE: And these local yokels can keep shooting their own selfies in the foot.

SARGE MARGE (beat): It pays to have friends in Defense Department.

VINNIE: And at City Hall.

They salute each other spiritedly as old Comrades in Arms.

SARGE MARGE: Waxman will move on up to State Senate.

VINNIE: And we’ll move on to trap more evangelical birds of prey.

SARGE MARGE: One endangered gig at a time …

VINNIE: Wonder where we’ll end up next?

SARGE MARGE: That’s certainly uncertain! But we’ll handle
all denominations when we get there!

AUDIO: sudden loud siren!

A panicked WAXMAN enters … in Night-Vision Goggles.

WAXMAN: They’ve escaped!

SARGE MARGE: What?

WAXMAN: Transfer Detail swapped papers, mistook them
for homeless homosexuals, and let ‘em go! We ended up bagging
the wrong guys – our Vandals in Sandals just got away!

SARGE MARGE: Oy vey iz mir!

VINNIE: More wandering Jews!

DICKENS steps out of shadows, downstage left.

WAXMAN: By the way, Sergeant, they left you this cryptic message:

DICKENS (to us): “He had the ring … He had the flat … But she felt

his chin … and that was that … ”

PROJECTION: “Burma-Shave”

END of PLAY

TAGS:

South Beach, Moses, South Pointe, Joe’s Stone Crab, News Cafe, Wolfie’s, Carnegie Deli, Giovanni Versace murder, Birkenstock Gizeh, graffiti art, Jews for Jesus, Temple Emanu-El, Holocaust Memorial, Ocean Drive, MacArthur Causeway, Arthur Godfrey, nude beach pickpockets, night-vision goggles, Yiddish, handlebar mustache, Government Cut, Continuum Condominium, confession, familial DNA phenotype, homeland security, Miami Vice, taggers, tasers, Israel “Reefa” Hernandez, Chalk’s Ocean Air Flight 101, Marielitos, Rio Olympics, Roney Plaza Hotel, Sonny’s Pizza, Burma-Shave.

APOLOGIES:

Austin Burke, Leo Steiner, Giovanni Versace, Fabian Forte, Cassius Clay, Angelo Dundee, Meyer Lansky, Al Capone, Muhammad Ali, Pat Putnam, James Crockett, Ricardo Tubbs, Israel Hernandez, Willie Nelson, Townes Van Zandt, James McMurtry, Jerry-Jeff Walker, Luther Evans, Larry King, Roy Firestone, M.B. Curtis, Frederick’s of Hollywood, Place Pigalle, and the Roney Plaza Hotel.

THANKS:

for help/inspiration in developing this script from stage to page.

Chief Charles R. Press, Chief Donald March II, Hon. Jeffrey Waxman, Mona Ram, Helen Means, Mark Hinds, Randall Nott, Ryan Terry, Remington Stone, Edwin Peabody, Sal Russo, Randy Anger, Linda Sciacqua, Anne Baker, Diane McRice, Sal Russo, Carol and John Kleber, Harlan Bailey, Dena Zachariah, Jill Walker, Steve Barbata, Brad Rovanpera, Richard Gebhardt, Iumi Richard Crow, Meera Chaturvedi, Scott Baba, Roy Jeans, Terry Porter, Art Crummer, Bill Hester, Jana and Steven Russon, Dan Calabrese, Kathi McCord, Sadie and Marvin Reed, Barbara Garfunkle, Mable Meadows Staats, Pat Putnam, Ken Small, Bill Braucher, Conrad Cimarra, Jim Rosenau, Charlie Varon, Dan Hoyle, Don Reed, Mike Duvall, Fred Wickham, Bob Rezak, Mario Menesini, Dusty Menesini, David Mamet, The Poet Azeem. Also institutional thanks to: Martinez Campbell Theater, Onstage Repertory Theater, ARTU4iA, GLT Sign Solutions, Martinez Arts Association, Artcelerator, Armando’s, Saucy’s Cafe, Barrel Aged/Barrelista, States Coffee + Bread.

YIDDISH-ENGLISH GLOSSARY

adonai – The Lord

bummerkeh – female hobo

chillul hashem – profaning God’s name

drek – excrement

fartoost – bewildered

goyim – non-Jewish people

greps – belching

klutz – a clod

knish – stuffed dumpling

mazel tov – good luck

mishegoss – insane

nudnik - a pest

oy gevalt – I’m shocked

paskudne – sloppy/nasty

pisher – a nobody

pisk – mouth

plosher – a braggart

putz – a jerk

seder – Passover ritual

shlock – shoddy

shlonging – a whipping

shmegegge – a petty whiner

shmendrick – a weak pipsqueak

shmuck – a “dick”

shnaps – intoxicating spirits

tuchus – rear end

vitz - wisecrack

This one-act has been read on stage:

18 August, 2017 - Martinez Campbell Theater

For details, see Playbill:

http://jamiejobbbackstagepass.blogspot.com/2017/07/blog-post_7.html

PRODUCTION NOTE

“Vandals in Sandals” is written for white-box production with minimal props:

PROPS

Birkenstocks

seats

table

menus

plates

napkin

croissant

flash card

spray paint cans

grocery bag

straight-jacket

“two-way mirror” (scrim)

handcuffs

map/whiteboard

paper file full of reports

night-vision goggles

AUDIO

paint spray

seagulls

waves

in-line skates rolling

distant street music

PROJECTION

seawall graffiti

the beach

SBPD Detective Bureau

“News Cafe”

“Burma-Shave”

* * *

CAUTION: Nothing within this one-act play may be replicated, for any reason, by any means, including any form of photographic reproduction, without expressed permission of the author.

This written work is subject to a royalty and is fully protected – in whole, in part or in any method of production – under the Copyright Laws of the United States of America and all other countries of the Copyright Union.

All rights – including professional, amateur, motion picture, radio, television, recitation and public reading – are strictly reserved by the author. All inquiries concerning performance should be addressed to him, contact details below.

First Edition: January, 2021; initial publication 16 November 2016
ISBN:
Library of Congress Catalog Number:

Jobb, Jamie
“Vandals in Sandals”

Contact Details regarding performance rights:

Jamie Jobb

Traveling Light Studio

Post Office Box 12

Martinez Ca 94553-0001

jamiejobb@gmail.com

925 723-1782

* * *

Temple Emanu-El, epicenter of South Beach

South Beach Backstory

For much of the Twentieth Century, the southern tip of Miami Beach was a uniquely storied place. While it occupies a space little over two-and-a-half miles long by one mile wide – from Twenty-Third Street and Collins Avenue down to South Pointe – this very tiny landmass tucked between the Atlantic Ocean and Biscayne Bay is known round-the-world as “South Beach”.

Although South Florida was built upon drained landfilled swamps, the creation of Miami Beach was relatively simple. The island sandbar was reclaimed from the sea – native mangroves terraformed into landfilled lots of homes, businesses, parks, hotels and night clubs.

Laborers had to hack through those tangled mangroves, deepen existing channels and fill in shifting sandbars with actual soil to create buildable land. So from its inception, South Beach was founded upon complete artificiality: the crazy ambitions of men exploiting cheap labor to gain money and fame.

Of course, just like modern “snowbirds” who visit Florida, those laborers and moguls were subjected to the same high heat, humidity and mosquitoes as everyone else. And to this day, the island must dredge sand to maintain its beaches because the landscape has no naturally-occurring geography.

Meanwhile, climate change and rising tides further threaten the stability of Miami Beach as sinkholes start to swallow entire buildings. It’s a wonder the place just doesn’t dissolve, like Alka-Seltzer, back into the sea.

* * *

The Mob Gains a Foothold

The Mafia found South Beach in the 1920s when “Scarface” himself came to town. Al Capone, began wintering in Miami in 1927 and two years later bought a house on Palm Island although residents voted to pass a resolution to ban the notorious criminal.

"Capone is no worse than a lot of others down here," then mayor J. Newton Lummus said – after admitting he’d actually sold the gangster his own house – more proof real-estate scams and politics have always been best friends in South Beach.

Meyer Lansky also maintained strong South Florida ties, with casino interests dating back to the 1930s. In his later years he returned, relocating from Hallandale Beach to Hollywood Florida in the 1950-1960s before eventually settling into a Collins Avenue condo, where he died in 1983.

These days, Russian mobs are more likely to cause trouble and spice up South Beach nightlife.

Just a few years ago, a group tied to Eastern European organized crime was busted in an elaborate scheme involving beautiful Estonian women luring unwitting men into fake Washington Avenue nightclubs to drug and rob them.

* * *

Art Deco a Go-Go

In the Art Deco era of the 1930s and 1940s, many of South Beach’s most architecturally significant hotels, municipal buildings and other structures were constructed.

While tourism slowed during World War II, many aviators and military personnel trained in South Florida, getting their first taste of the Sunshine State.

As a result, the region’s population began growing in the late 1940s – the start of a boom that lasted for decades.

* * *

“Away We Go!”

In the late 1950s and early 1960s, early TV stars Arthur Godfrey and Jackie Gleason helped put Miami Beach on the national map with their live TV shows broadcast from landmark hotels like the Fontainebleau and Eden Roc.

During the 1960s and 1970s, South Beach became known as a retirement community offering inexpensive accommodations to aging seniors, including a large Jewish contingent from the Northeast.

In 1980, the mass exodus from Castro’s Cuba known as The Mariel Boatlift added thousands of new refugees to the area’s ethnic blender.

Then in the mid 1980s, a South Beach renaissance began, sparked by the community’s realization that the pastel-colored “streamlined” architecture of the Art Deco era had become a priceless asset.

Meanwhile the TV show “Miami Vice” created a new awareness of South Beach throughout the country and around the world. Investors and entrepreneurs poured into the region, and stimulated its revival.

* * *

Segregation Keeps the Beach

Off-Limits to Anyone Not White

Before the Civil Rights era, segregation in South Beach wasn’t just about lunch tables and water fountains. African-Americans were not allowed to live in Miami Beach. Any African-American who worked there was urged to get a “police pass” to avoid questioning after 6 p.m.

Likewise, people of color were banned from most beaches and allowed on a few others – but only onMondays, when the sands were cleaned after whites had partied on them all weekend.

Black tourists weren’t allowed to stay in hotels in Miami Beach. Ironically those same hotels would book black entertainers to amuse their all-white guests. Even the bands of Ray Charles, Johnny Mathis, Diana Ross and the Supremes were required to stay the night in Overtown.

It wasn’t just blacks either. For a while, Jews were allowed to live only south of Fifth Street and “Gentiles Only” signs were common among local businesses. In fact, in some cases Jews and Gentiles were required to use separate entrances. However, Anti-Semitism was officially outlawed in 1949 by local ordinance.

In 1972, both the Democratic and Republican parties made the odd choice of holding their conventions not only in the same town but also in the same building: the Miami Beach Convention Center.

The Republicans were up first to renominate President Richard Nixon who divided the nation with his persistence in American troops remaining in Vietnam. Somehow this was the quieter of the two conventions.

As expected, there were war protests in the street. Of course as President, Nixon tried to have those protests suppressed.

* * *

Retirement Ghetto and Crime

Despite hurricanes, national economic depressions and a pair of world-wars, Miami Beach was mostly a city of glamor and dreams — until the early 1970s when the bottom fell out.

Tourism hit a high point in the 1950s and thrived well into the 1960s, but three factors contributed to South Beach's decline in the 1970s:

Orlando’s Disney World opened to siphon away visitors in 1971.
The image of South Beach became too prepackaged and soon lost favor with travel agents.
Air travel became more available as tourists opted for the Caribbean instead of South Florida.

To compensate for the loss of out-of-town visitors, landlords and hotel owners soon began catering to middle-to-lower-class retirees. Meanwhile, well-heeled residents started to move out.

Miami Beach had become something it never wanted to be: poor, old, uncool and boring. At that time, the famous Lenny Bruce quip began to circulate: "Miami Beach is where neon goes to die.”

During the early 1980s, crime – and not any particularly organized variety – grabbed a chokehold on South Beach.

Fidel Castro didn't help by exiling political prisoners during The Mariel Boatlift. So alongside remaining poor retirees lived drug dealers and two-bit foreign criminals, the stuff of “Miami Vice”.

The wealthiest remaining seniors hightailed it out of town, while only the poorest had no choice but to remain.

* * *

Versace Murder Marks End

of South Beach's Greatest Era

It's difficult to imagine an era of a city's history intertwined with a singular fashion designer, but such was the case with the luxurious land of glamor that South Beach became in the late 1980s.

The paths of Miami Beach and Gianni Versace collided when producers of “Miami Vice” brought him on as a fashion consultant and his trademark laid-back look of main character Sonny Crockett swept the nation.

In 1986, Peoplemagazine noted that sales in Miami's Versace boutique were among the biggest in the world.

Ensuing years found South Beach a premiere world destination with Versace holding court as the world's premier designer.

The marriage was consummated in 1992 when Versace bought an old hotel on Ocean Drive and built his castle, almost instantly crowning himself King of South Beach.

Versace brought supermodels, artists and celebrities like Madonna along with him, as he seemed to single-handedly cement South Beach's A-list status.

The party continued for much of the decade until 1997.

The media had become obsessed with a spree killer who was believed to have been responsible for four men’s deaths in three states.

That summer the killer seemingly disappeared for two months. Turns out he was hiding in plain sight around South Beach.

After learning of Versace's morning routine, the perpetrator fatally shot the designer on the steps of his Ocean Drive estate. South Beach had seen many a crime before, but none quite as shocking and bizarre as this.

South Beach still recalls it as if it were a local 9/11. "Well, this was back in The Versace Days,"they'll say, or "Of course, that was After Versace, when things all started coming apart."

Some saw it as the end of an era – the final chapter of South Beach's most glamorous days.

* * *

World’s Plaything

As human occupations go, South Beach continues to be outlandishly successful as a tourist destination since arising Lazarus-like after the loss of Versace.

From the late 1940s to the early 1960s as it devised and perfected the modern resort hotel for mass tourism, Miami Beach was known as “America’s Playground”.

Now it’s the “World’s Plaything” — a dynamic money magnet for people of means, a sparkling showcase of haute architecture, a cultural standard-bearer featuring international luxury shopping and gourmand delights.

Miami Beach on its 100th birthday has completed a most miraculous transformation.

“It’s a real place,” said native Mitchell “Micky” Wolfson Jr., founder of Wolfson-FIU museum, a gem in a civic crown that includes the Frank Gehry-designed New World Symphony, Miami City Ballet headquarters, the reinvigorated Bass Museum and the annual Art Basel/Miami Beach.

* * *

Champlain Towers Collapse

Then at a time of global pandemic in 2021, Miami Beach suddenly realized its buildings may be at risk of collapse due to land subsidence and coastal flooding. A detailed report found that the Champlain Towers South building had been sinking before its horrific collapse in June, 2021.

The study revealed that significant coastal flooding threatens other areas of southwest Miami Beach. It also identified parts of northeast Miami Beach where the ground has sunk.

Shimon Wdowinski, a professor in the Department of Earth and Environment at Florida International University, authored the report. He studied Miami Beach as well as a Virginia coastal town to see where flooding might impact ground stability and cause structures to sink.

The Champlain Towers collapse came as no surprise to Wdowinski, given that his research indicated the ground beneath the building had been sinking at a rate of 1.9 mm every year since the 1990s.

Another site where the same thing was happening is an area surrounding Park View Island near an elementary school. That area has been sinking at 2.3 mm a year – a rate faster than the land which sunk beneath Champlain Towers.

Further south, Wdowinski's team identified two South Beach sites in the Flamingo/Lummus area that were also sinking at rates of 2.2 mm a year and 2 mm a year. They are in residential and commercial districts, just east of the celebrity enclave, Star Island.

Clearly, the landfill reclaimed for Miami Beach has now started to reclaim itself right back into the Atlantic.

FURTHERMORE

http://www.miaminewtimes.com/news/100-years-the-dark-and-dirty-history-of-miami-beach-755216

http://www.miamiherald.com/news/local/community/miami-dade/miami-beach/article15798998.html

http://southbeachstories.com/history-of-south-beach

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-9723841/Map-report-predicting-condo-collapse-reveals-Miami-Beach-spots-risk-collapse.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muhammad_Ali

https://www.tesobe.org

https://www.miaminewtimes.com/restaurants/news-cafe-gianni-versaces-ocean-drive-favorite-has-closed-temporarily-11803152

https://www.miaminewtimes.com/restaurants/mark-soyka-says-his-latest-project-cafe-roval-is-his-last-9086533

https://mdpl.org/archives/2020/04/wolfies-and-rascal-house/

https://www.nbcmiami.com/news/local/reefa-film-about-graffiti-artist-who-died-after-police-taser-incident-comes-to-miami-theater/2429543/