John Hyde, a Play by Ronald Garbin

 

Read Blurbs About John Hyde by Its Own Characters.

 

Stonewall Crabbe a High Court Justice:

I abhor the play. The author fabricated my downfall; it was unwarranted, short and fatal.

 

Daisy Lyons, nurse and painter:

The plot of John Hyde lets me have a dual career. I can paint terminally ill patients, and even outline the President’s new three-dollar bill design. I owe our author a lot.

 

John Hyde, Faustian president:

This drama sustains my project to throw the modern world into real perspective. Even its climax in a hint of later dawn remains only a glimmer. The play held my Interest to the end. My villainy continues. I cause both mayhem and surprise, and I go down fighting. Doubt my triumph or not; that’s life.

 

Dr. Lamont La Brea, a satanic backer:

The play misses fire, with a warped outcome contrary to its promise. Hyde is my client creature spelled under my influence, out for evil that goes right. It’s a disgrace. The play tries to transform Hyde to hero, and fails. It tramples both simple logic and common knowledge of the world. Humankind’s rescue comes only as a hint from nowhere.

 

Waldo Waldo. a failed assassin:

In the play I twice try killing Hyde, and never do. I deserve a third shot at the guy. No dice. That make me the real target—and a true victim. Help!

 

Frances Harkins, old friend and judge:

The play connects threads of recognized history into a single framework, or perhaps just a kaleidoscope. It really is courtroom drama that never comes to trial.

 

Lucy Hyde. the First Lady:

John Hyde tinkers a lot, with me especially. At least I’m allowed to discover an outside, objective, real non-human world away from my husband’s fantasy-focused playing wicked with Lego blocks.

 

Helen Scopes. Hyde’s promised amour.:

The play leaves the future open, and I enjoy incarnating a classic figure in modern ecological conflict not yet won. I don’t complain. When Mr. Hyde states he first spoke to me in lauding verse as his Cleopatra resplendent in her Nile barge, I laughed. He’d addressed not me, but a different woman: my colleague clad in the costume of our Movement.

 

Leonard Bosky, government agent:

Our play casts light on counterfeiting not only of money and identities, but of big modern, abstract blueprints, grandiose schemes, words, piffle-perfect.