Their One Good Son

Winners Never Quit

By Tristan McDaniel 

I first heard the band Pedro the Lion during the middle of high school. The music sounded slow, which at the time meant boring to me. As with many of my favorite musicians, it just took time for me to really appreciate this indie rock act. What caught me especially about the band, which is primarily the creative child of one David Bazan, were the metaphors and stories he weaved, filled with maudlin, uncertain, deeply hurt characters, corporate excess, and much musing. Bazan has a particular penchant for using language that seems beautiful on the surface, yet holds malice and deceit hidden within it. This was especially apparent in the 2000 album Winners Never Quit, probably my favorite by this band. The eight-song album is filled with dirges, gripping imagery, memorable melodies, and a jarring mid-album minor-chord rush. The lyrics provide a skeleton to the reader, allowing one to see all the basics of the story and the ideas the characters argue and/or embody. I used to sit down for hours and interpret this album before with friends. It follows the story of two brothers, one successful by the standards of the world, one not. The former runs for high office, with Bazan vaguely alluding that he is somehow involved in underhanded dealings. His wife finds out, and he frantically kills her. And then, he mysteriously decides to kill himself. He tries to reform his drunkard brother, the family disappointment (though one never really knows why), but his way of doing so is rather self-serving, and imbues the poor brother, labeled as a “sinner,” with a load of guilt. The successful son’s death brings great shame on the family (Bazan pens the line, “their tower to Heaven has come tumbling down”), and the unsuccessful brother is left wrestling with what his brother said to him about who he is, and whether forgiveness is available to him.  

Last year, sometime in May, I began trying to adapt this story to the stage. I’d written one play in high school, this goofy dark comedy that combined Stalin and SpongeBob Squarepants into one character that I call Stalinpants, and I had been itching for some time to write another play. I knew the themes well, and I have been in love with story. After one failed attempt, I prayed about it and got an idea on how to begin. I gave thanks for the opportunity and began, and a year later, after writing off and on, workshops and helpful editing in a scriptwriting course, I’m quite far along, though certainly not finished. I’ve simply added flesh to Bazan’s bones, giving the characters names, backgrounds, expanding the arguments, inventing new ones to add depth to the conflict, and creating some new characters. 

It’s been a beautiful experience. I love what God is bringing out in this, and I’ve been reminded of so many Scriptures while writing it. I hope that this can really probe people’s minds and hearts on issues like sin, forgiveness, success, what it is to be a brother’s keeper. If people see more in it, as tends to happen in theatre, all the better. Now I just need to get a hold of folks like David Bazan and the distribution company to see how much of the lyrics I can use in the script. Godspeed. 

Their One Good Son, or Winners Never Quit

A play by M. Tristan McDaniel

Adapted from Pedro the Lion’s album Winner’s Never Quit 
 

Excerpt Character List

CHARLES EUGENE CHAMPLAIN: A Congressman and successful businessman, running for governor.

PAUL CHAMPLAIN: His brother

2^nd OFFICER 
 
 

Scene Six

(Lights up on PAUL entering the kitchen. He’s leaning against something stationary. Soon CHARLES enters. PAUL is more than tipsy, afraid, and ashamed.) 

CHARLES: (Comfort in his voice) Paul?… (PAUL unresponsive) Paul, come here…. Paul, come and sit down with me…. Did you hear me?

PAUL: No.

CHARLES: Come on, Paul…Look at me. Look at me, your dear brother. Don’t hide your face from me…please. (Paul turns and looks at his brother.)

PAUL: Why would you want to look at me, Charles? When have you ever wanted to look upon me?

CHARLES: You are family, Paul. Why wouldn’t I want to see you?

PAUL: Because I’m your brother.

CHARLES: No. It’s because of those familial ties that –

PAUL: What ties? I hardly see you—any of you. I barely get even a semblance of a phone call. I come back and no one trusts me.

CHARLES: I’m sorry, Paul. I hope you understand how busy I often am. I mean, you’re at the office; you see firsthand how much is going on. (Silence) I wasn’t aware that you wanted to get a hold of me so much.

PAUL: Aren’t we family?

CHARLES: Of course. And we love you, Paul. I love you.

PAUL: Do you?

CHARLES: Can’t you tell? I’ve always been good to you. I’ve given my best.

PAUL: What qualifies as your best?

CHARLES: What do you mean, Paul? I’ve always tried to love you. Remember, I spent time with you, protected you, did all the things a big brother should –

PAUL: You hurt me, Charles.

CHARLES: No.

PAUL: Oh, yes, you have. More than once –

CHARLES: Never. Never, Paul. In fact, you’ve hurt me, Paul. You’ve hurt yourself…. You love the bottle now.

PAUL: You lie.

CHARLES: Do I, Paul? What about out there? Look at yourself right now. What about all the missing whiskey bottles, all the times before that you’ve stumbled home, uncontrolled –

PAUL: I can control myself.

CHARLES: You need help.

PAUL: I’m perfectly fine. Have I been drunk at work? I’ve been just dandy here at home.

CHARLES: But the whiskey –

PAUL: You’ve been throwing enough parties to break the budgets of small countries, Charles. Of course there’s missing whiskey bottles.

CHARLES: I’ve smelt your breath. It’s familiar….

PAUL: You’ve said this all before, Charles. Can’t you just drop it and let me be?

CHARLES: My brother needs to learn how to be controlled.

PAUL: I am in control, Charles.

CHARLES: You’ve never been under control. Even when we were teenagers, Paul, you couldn’t make the grade. I tried, I tried with you, Paul, but you simply blew me off and disobeyed.

PAUL: Haven’t I tried?

CHARLES: You went and wasted your time, hanging around with a bunch of punks.

PAUL: So I ran with the wrong crowd. I was confused. None of you would listen—those punks seemed to actually listen. Mom and Dad always cared about what you were doing.

CHARLES: They were worried, Paul. They knew, and their confusion and consternation knew no end. And those guys—they hurt you. You wandered off. Do you know how difficult it is to try and console parents worried about their hoodlum of a son? Do you know how much shame you brought upon them? Upon me? To this very day, Paul… You know, I would plead for you before them and God, and before all the community, that your punishment might be lessened. Sometimes I believe that you’re still living under a black cloud.

PAUL: I came back.

CHARLES: And you’ve always left us again. Doing good has never been easy for you.

PAUL: Why is that, Charles?

CHARLES: You’ve never quite come back. You’ve failed… (Lets it sink in)

PAUL: Why have I failed? And how, Charles? How the fuck have I failed?

CHARLES: You’re a sinner Paul; that’s failure in itself. You aren’t good.

PAUL: How do you judge goodness, Charles?

CHARLES: By a man’s deeds. And your life is not hard to examine.

PAUL: What right do you have to object to how I’ve lived my life?

CHARLES: I’m your brother. I know you, and I’ve seen plenty. You’ve been a disappointment to our parents, you don’t try hard enough, and you’ve always been interested in worthless pursuits, squandered whatever support they’ve ever given you. You’re a drunk, can’t hold a job, never had any ambition –

PAUL: But the project –

CHARLES: Came to nothing. All your work has been a flop—childhood chemistry experiments and the like.

PAUL: I had a grant –

CHARLES: That you lost. Look at yourself, Paul. You fall short of His mark, and have never amounted to anything after all these years. Stop lying to yourself.

PAUL: I can’t let go.

CHARLES: Loosen your grip and bow your knee, Paul…. Let me help you.

PAUL: (Pause. Tearing up) I want to come back.

CHARLES: (Goes to hold PAUL) I know. I know, brother; I believe you. (Long pause)

PAUL: What can I do?

CHARLES: Be righteous.

PAUL: But how?

CHARLES: Well, it’s like curing a disease; it’s a long, arduous road. But it can be done. We’ll work in stages. (Pause, looks directly at PAUL) First, I need you to stop drinking. You can’t handle it. It unleashes much of the worst in you. Can you do that for me, Paul?

PAUL: I think so, Charles.

CHARLES: Are you sure?

PAUL: Yes.

CHARLES: Also, I need you to stop complaining. I need stuffers like you. Next time ’round, you can have a better job. Third, try and stay out of public.

PAUL: Why?

CHARLES: You could hurt my campaign, Paul. Once we’ve got this election all finished up, we can work on this more thoroughly.

PAUL: What am I to do now?

CHARLES: Do exactly as I tell you. Also, go and pray…. We’ll start right away, but we need to make a few things clear before I begin to help you reform.

PAUL: What’s that, Charles?

CHARLES: Brother, I want you to know this: I love you dearly, but I do hate your sin.

(PAUL pauses, taking that in, contemplating the weight of his brother’s words)

CHARLES: Paul, I need you to do one other thing.

PAUL: All right.

CHARLES: I need you to promise that you’ll listen to me, that you will do whatever I ask you to do so that you can be helped, so that you can get well, so that there will no longer be a blot upon the whole Champlain family. Can you do that for me?

PAUL: Yes.

CHARLES: Promise?

PAUL: I promise, Charles.

CHARLES: Good.

(Lights dim) 
 

Scene Eleven

(Lights up on the precinct’s jail. PAUL is in his cell, listening, rises from sleep. CHARLES is talking to a guard offstage.) 

2^nd OFFICER: I don’t know, sir. Visiting hours were up a while ago. It’s lights out, and…

CHARLES: Dammit man, let me in. Do you know who you’re dealing with?

2^nd OFFICER: Yes sir, I believe I do.

CHARLES: Then you damn well deal with me the way you should, and not like a man who couldn’t get you fired, whose reputation isn’t stained by a brother who lands himself in this place.

2^nd OFFICER: (Reluctant) Sir, I…

(CHARLES does something; threatens, intimidates further, whatever; ultimately unknown to the audience. 2^ND OFFICER slowly opens the door to the cell.)

2^nd OFFICER: Ten minutes. (Door closes)

CHARLES: Hello, Paul.

PAUL: (Shame reflected on his face) Charles? (Pause) I’m sorry, Charles. I know –

CHARLES: That’s enough, Paul. I just want to know one thing. What was it that possessed you to get yourself locked up again?

PAUL: But Charles –

CHARLES: Could you answer that for me, Paul?

PAUL: Charles, I…I…I don’t know what came over me…I just want to make you all proud…I’m sorry.

CHARLES: Proud? Well this doesn’t make any of us proud, Paul. Maybe you should’ve thought more about what makes us proud before hitting the streets, Paul, before you dove into the bottle again, Paul.

PAUL: I’d been dry for a week, Charles. I…I don’t know why I stopped.

CHARLES: I’ve told you this before, Paul. It’s because you’re weak. You’re so used to it, to your sinful pathways, that it’s difficult for you to help yourself.

PAUL: I tried, Charles.

CHARLES: I know, Paul. But that isn’t good enough. Try though you might, whatever effort you put out wasn’t good enough. Try though you might, you haven’t made me proud, nor mom or dad. It’s always the same, ever since we were young. In fact, I heard about your incarceration from one of my aides. He told me that Governor Jones got word before me that you were in here, and then proceeded to splash the news on every network in the state. And days before the election! Do you know how close this race is, Paul? The Crowder scandal has saved me from complete electoral fallout, and it might just prove to be what sends me up and over Jones on that day, but it’s damn close. We’ve all been stressing for weeks, straining to find ways to better this state and thereby discredit that fraud of a governor we have. And it’s days until the day, and he pulls this card out of his sleeve – you! My own brother!...You…

PAUL: (Pause) Charles, please. I need help. Give me another chance.

CHARLES: That’s a very difficult thing to ask me, Paul. You’ve had your chances from the day you were born, and you’ve fucked up every one of them. You’ve been a burden to all of us, and caused our loving, hard-working parents so much undue pain…. You’ve shamed the family, and threatened everything I’ve gained by all you’ve lost.

PAUL: But Jesus, Charles – What of forgiveness?

CHARLES: Forgiveness…yes…Trust in the Lord for it; I might take a while. (Moving to go)

PAUL: But didn’t you say you’d help me?

CHARLES: I did, Paul. I am right now and once this election is out, I will get down to hammering this out with you. (Turns)

PAUL: Where are you going?

CHARLES: Home, Paul, I’m quite tired. I’ve got a long day ahead of me.

PAUL: Are you leaving me here tonight?

CHARLES: I think so, Paul, at least for the next few days. It will give you time to think.

PAUL: But Charles –

CHARLES: Goodnight, Paul. Pleasant dreams. The Lord keep you. (Exits. Spot on PAUL for a moment. Lights dim)