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Season Info

A Day Out of Time
(Ellis Island, 1906)
By Alan Foster Friedman


Bob Ari, RoZsa Horvath, Adam Carl, and John Banach 


Director
Producer
Scenic Designer
Lighting Designer
Sound Designer
Composer
Scenic Artist
Assistant Director
Costume Designer
Graphic Artist

Michael Wadler
Barbara Beckley
Todd Nielsen
Jamie McAllister
Gary Christensen
Jeffrey Rockwell
John Thomas Clark
Sandy Schuckett
Jeanne Harriott
Robert Budaska

CAST (in order of speaking):

Chief Inspector Cione
Peddler
Inspector Ryder
No. 1109, Mordecai Rabkin
No. 1110, Hannah Rabkin
No. 1111, Berel Rabkin
No. 961, Ivan Klimenko
No. 2004, Jacob Rizhie
No. 428, Haroutoon Sundookian
No. 429, Araxie Sundookian
No. 430, Stepan Sundookian
No. 431, MariamAbadjian
No. 2589, Nikos Christomanos
Understudy for Berel
Russ Marin
Keith Mills 
Gary Cearlock
John Banach
RoZsa Horvath
Adam Carl
Arnie Shamblin
Don Woodruff
Bob Ari
Kristen Peckinpah
Kent Stoddard
Bonita Friedericy
Nick DeGruccio
Bob King

Place: a second floor holding room in the Immigration Center on Ellis Island
Time: October, 1906

ACT I

Morning

ACT II

Late Afternoon, the same day
 


You who have been born in America, I wish I could make you understand what it is like not to be an American not to have been an American all your life and then suddenly with the words of a man in flowing robes to be one, for that moment and forever after. One moment you belong with your fathers to a million dead yesterday. The next you belong with America to a million unborn tomorrows.

George Magar Mardikian

There are those, I know, who will replay that the liberation of humanity, the freedom of man and mind, is nothing but a dream . . . They are right. It is the American dream.

  Archibald MacLeish

America has been settled by people of all nations. All nations may claim her for their own. We are not a narrow tribe of men . . . No, our blood is as the flood of the Amazon, made up of a thousand noble currents all pouring into one . . . We are not a nation so much as a world.

  Herman Melville


 

Not like the brazen giant of Greek frame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land,
Here at our sea-washed, sunset-gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame,
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows the world-wide welcome, her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin-cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she,
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I life my lamp beside the golden door!"

Emma Lazarus
 
 

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