Buried Child

The last show of our fifteenth season

Was Buried Child

And the show turned out sort of lousy

Because halfway through the rehearsal process

Beau’s son showed up

Wanting to be an actor

He was fifteen

And crazier than his mother and father combined

I guess he’d dropped out of school

And ran away from his mother in New York

To come live with Beau

Although Big Daddy wasn’t having it

Not any of it

He was perfectly happy sending the kid a birthday card

Once a year

Girls out there

Let me give you a piece of advice:

Artists do not make good fathers

And they breed other artists

They multiply

Like gremlins

Always remember that

Beau had no choice but to let the kid stay

Tennessee’s mother didn’t want him back

Until he’d straightened out a little bit

And she thought it was time for Beau

To start acting like a dad

So Beau gave his son odd jobs to do around the theater

‘But,’ he said, ‘Under no circumstances are you going to act’

He said acting was for egomaniacs

And childhood trauma victims

And that was it

I felt like telling him

That some of us are just in it

For the cocaine and the orgies

But I kept my mouth shut

Beau had been pretty relaxed that season

But having his son around

Just brought out all his old habits

The bad temper, the nastiness

Beau and Tennessee fought like cats and dogs

The whole rehearsal process

And on the opening night of the show

Beau said something nasty to the kid

At the after party

And the next thing we knew

Tennessee was throwing glasses

Right at Beau’s head

The men all grabbed Tennessee

And the women all sheltered Beau

Which is pretty indicative

Of what was wrong with that company

If you ask me

‘Jesus Beau,’ I said, ‘What did you say to the poor kid?’

Beau looked right at me

And with no shame said—

‘I told him he doesn’t belong here.’

Can you imagine saying to your son

That he doesn’t belong in the one place

You feel more at home

Than anywhere else on earth?

That man could be a real bastard

And I mean that

The kid’s mom came and picked him up

And because Beth and I always got along

I went to Beau’s house with her

And helped her and her son

Pack up his things

At one point, Ten sat down on his bed

And burst into tears

And if you know fifteen-year-old boys

You know it takes a lot to get them to cry

‘I hope the whole damn place burns down,’ he said, ‘That’s how much I hate him.’

Beth sat down on one side of him

And I sat down on the other

And we tried to pull him together enough

To get him back to the car

So Beth could take him back

To New York

The next day when I went to the theater

Beau asked me how everything I went

I could tell he was a little ashamed about what happened

But he didn’t want to show it

I said, ‘Beau, I’m going to tell you a story

And that’s going to be me saying my peace’

I told him that my dad was the best lawyer

In all of St. Louis

When I was growing up

But he was one miserable father

I told Beau that he’d been dead for years

And that there was a good chance

Nobody remembers what a great lawyer he was

But I’d go to my grave remembering

How bad he was at being my dad

‘Remember that,’ I said, ‘The next time you choose this theater over your son’

And that was my peace

Oh, don’t get any ideas

He didn’t listen to a word I said

But at least I said it

Maybe Beau did a lot for this theater

But he didn’t do shit for his son

A lot of us sacrificed things for this place

Friends, time, our sanities, our health

But Beau sacrificed his son

And knowing that—

It makes me wish the whole place had just burned the ground

A long time ago

I can’t help it

It’s just how I feel