The Haunting of Lin-Manuel Miranda

Ishmael Reed

• Publisher: Archway Editions
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781576875513
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Theatre

"That's a lot of horse hockey, Hamilton." Described by the New York Times as "classic activist theater" and "a cross between 'A Christmas Carol' and a trial at The Hague's International Criminal Court." "In this, his latest work, the protean Ishmael Reed--the legendary artist and prolific writer--continues to burnish his already sterling reputation by dismantling the 'Creation Myth' of the founding of the U.S., as represented in the incredibly profitable play and musical, Hamilton. Reed, a verbal acrobat of global renown, demonstrates here why he is widely considered to be the leading intellectual in the U.S. today." -Gerald Horne, author of The Counter-Revolution of 1776: Slave Resistance and the Origins of the USA This powerful play, originally produced at the Nuyorican Poets Café, comprehensively dismantles the phenomenon of Lin-Manuel Miranda and Hamilton. Reed uses the musical's crimes against history to insist on a radical, cleareyed way of looking at our past and our selves. Both durable and timely, this goes beyond mere corrective – it is a meticulously researched rebuttal, an absorbing drama, and brilliant rallying cry for justice. The perfect tie-in to both the success of and backlash to Hamilton, it is the major voice in contrast to the recent movie. It captures both the earnest engagement that fans of the musical desire, as well as the exhausted disbelief of those who can't stand it. Teachers, students and fans of drama, literature, and history will find much to love. It is written by one of America's most respected and original writers, who is eagerly promoting it, and who is long overdue for a renaissance.

ACT 1, SCENE 1

Lin-Manuel Miranda is sitting at his Casio. Asleep. George Washington is sitting in a chair. A Black woman, Venus, is sitting on his lap. He’s reading from a letter.

Washington: (To Venus.) It’s not my fault that he found her lazy. As for the man, I told Simpson that he suffered from infirmities. He should have asked more questions. I won’t have him write a letter to me like this. Doesn’t he know who I am? George Washington, commander of the Continental Army.

Alexander Hamilton enters.

Washington: (To Venus.) Scoot. (Venus exits.) Aide-De-Camp, Alexander Hamilton. I was just reading this letter from a guy who asked me to lease a couple of my slaves to him. The nerve of this guy. He blames me for sending him flawed products. Wants a refund. They were good for nothing at the house and so I sent them to work for this fellow Simpson. Well, (Washington laughs) he is complaining about the two. Says that they’re (mimics) inefficient in hauling trees. Well the one fellow, London, (Washington laughs) had his toes cut off and can’t walk. Simpson told me to send him a couple of slaves. He didn’t ask about their condition.

Hamilton: As I always say. There is no difference between cows, horses and slaves, General. They are all personal property of their owners as far as I’m concerned.

Washington: You got that right. But some of them are rogues. They’ll steal you out of your fortune. There’s one of them, who is always stealing corn and running away. If I catch the runaways, I have the Overseer whip them to keep them in line. As for those whom I find with the British, I turn them over to their masters.

Hamilton: The British are encouraging slaves to run away from their owners. This Lord Dunmore is promising them freedom if they make it to British lines. Trying to get them to join their side. And Sir Henry Clinton also promised them freedom with his Philipsburg Proclamation. If they become free, they won’t want to return to their owners.

Washington: Good thinking, Hamilton. I’ve had my eye on you.

Hamilton: I’m flattered, General.

Washington: You’re like the son I never had.

Hamilton: Thank you, Sir.

Washington: But Hamilton, you gotta make some money. Get some land. Then people will admire you.

Hamilton: How do I do that General given my poor immigrant origins and the way I have reached this status even though deprived of a mother at an early age, and becoming an orphan, working my way up, teaching myself, imbibing the wise consul of Elders like you? I came to America, where the promise of freedom beckoned, where we have the holy task of overthrowing the tyranny of King George III. He is opposed to freedom, which is every man’s right.

Washington: That’s a lot of horse hockey, Hamilton. Your mother was a slave owner. She owned four slaves. And when she died, she left you a slave. Ajax. You got a human being. A step-and-fetch-it. But you lost the slave when your mother’s ex came and claimed him. You also worked for a slave trading firm called Beekman and Cruger in St. Croix. Your job was to report the arrival and condition of slaves and to also prepare slaves for auction like you prepare dogs for a show. You’ve been up to your blue eyes in the slave trade from the time you were a child, yet you’re always getting on me and Tom about our slaves, whom we treat as if they were members of the family. So, get off your high horse.

Hamilton: How did you find out about my background?

Washington: Never mind. And cut out the crap about our goals.

Hamilton: I don’t follow, Sir.

Washington: All of this beacon of hope B.S. The reason that we are fighting for our independence is because King George and these redcoat sons of bitches not only want to confiscate our—a servants—, but the King issued that goddamn Proclamation of 1763. This tyrant wants to declare all land west of Appalachia Indian land. I’ll tell you how I handle Indians. My family has been fighting these vicious savages ever since we landed here, starting with my great grandfather, John Washington. How do I deal with this so called Six Nations of Indians? I ordered the total destruction and devastation of their settlements, and the capture of as many prisoners of every age and sex as possible. I ordered that their crops be ruined—both their crops then in the ground and to prevent their planting more. My troops lay waste to all the settlements around, with instructions to do it in the most effectual manner, that their country may not be merely overrun, but destroyed. Among the Indians I have inherited the name given by the Iroquois to my great-grandfather, John Washington: Conotocaurius, which means Town Destroyer. And this royal ass wants to let these savages keep their lands? These animals mess with me and I’ll give them a fire and fury that they will never forget.

Hamilton: King George must be mad.

Washington: I have heard such. He’s even armed our slaves. Hell, do you think that Jefferson, Madison, Jay and I can manage these vast estates by ourselves?

Hamilton: Slaves are valuable property.

Washington: Precisely. Now you got it. You’re a quick study. But Hamilton. You need to improve your finances. You’re a good-looking guy. You don’t want to serve as a soldier for the rest of your life. You might get your ass blown away and the pay is bad. And even if you became a lawyer, you could end up broke. Everybody in the colonies is a lawyer. You’re not going to get rich the way you’re going.

Hamilton: What do you recommend?

Washington: Well, first I’m going to give you a book that helped me.

Hands Hamilton a book.

Hamilton: What is it?

Washington: It’s a comportment book. Teaches how you should behave in high society. Now read those passages that I have underlined.

Hamilton: (Reads as Washington nods in approval at each point.) “When in Company, put not your Hands to any Part of the Body, not usually Discovered; Spit not in the Fire, especially if there be meat before it. Kill no Vermin as Fleas, lice, ticks in the Sight of Others, and if you See any filth or thick Spittle put your foot Dexterously upon it.” Very sagacious advice, General.

Washington: Next, marry a rich woman. I was broke until I married Martha. Got a lot of land and slaves. 48,000 acres and growing.

Hamilton: A rich woman? But General, how do you—I mean, you know—Martha…

Washington: You mean love making? You think that I sleep with that old biddy?

Hamilton: Well—I…

Washington: Marry one of General Schuyler’s girls. Eliza. He brings her around to the camp. The guy is rolling in dough. Got that estate on the Hudson. You can have some ladies on the side. I hear that her sister Angelica is frisky, and her sister Eliza is very modern if you catch my drift. Party girls. Thomas Jefferson hit on Angelica, who is married to a dull fat bug who spends all of his time at the adding machine. But I don’t think that she fell for Tom’s flirtations. The guy is a popinjay. Dresses up like a Frenchman. Puts on airs. When he came to visit Mount Vernon, Martha said that it was the worst day of her life. You can’t get through a sentence without the guy correcting your pronunciation. A real pain in the derriere. He’d probably correct my pronunciation of that word. And then the bastard got on us about the way we held our dining utensils. Says we should observe the French way of dining.

Hamilton: General. You have given me some good advice. I’m going to invite the Schuyler girl to have tea with me. General may I ask you a question?

Washington: Shoot—

Hamilton: That slave girl who was sitting on your lap.

Washington: Her name is Venus. Yeah. What about her?

Hamilton: She—

Washington: She is my er—sleeping partner. All of us have one or two of those. (Longingly, in a near trance.) She puts those lissome ebony arms around me and rocks me till I go to sleep. I’m good to my slaves. See these teeth? (Shows his teeth.) These are my slaves’ teeth. They admire me so much that they gave me their teeth. Such devotion is rare. You coming to the dance tonight?

Hamilton: What dance, General?

Washington: We get the Indians drunk and make them dance. They have a dance that goes like this. (Demonstrates.) They clear a large circle and make a great fire in the middle. Then seat themselves around it. . . the best dancer jumps up as one awakened out of a sleep and runs and jumps about the ring in a most comical manner. He is followed by the rest. Then their musicians begin to play. All the while we keep refilling their drinks until some of them start falling over each other and getting into fights. The music is made by a pot half full of water with a deerskin stretched over it as tight as it can, a...