CORONADO, California–When Joanna McClelland Glass first met Judge Francis Biddle in 1967 she was in her early twenties and he was 81. She was on the morning side of her life and career he was at twilight of his. He had pretty much ‘done it all.’ She was from the Canadian prairie, her native Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. His ancestry dated back to 1681, England and was “Main Line Philadelphia”, a Blueblood, if you will. Her father was a salesman, who lost everything when he was fired from his job and eventually drank himself to death. Her mother was illiterate. He could trace his lineage,
on his mother’s side, to the influential aristocrat Thomas Randolph, a diplomatic agent reporting to Queen Elizabeth and a younger Thomas Randolph,
successful writer of English and Latin.
As a matter of history, after graduation from Harvard, cum laude (a point he never missed a chance at retelling) with both B.A. and L.L.B. Biddle
worked as a private secretary to Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes,Jr. He spent the next twenty years in trial work and during the great
Depression he became ‘consumed’ with the plight of the Pennsylvania coal miners and became politically active in labor issues. In 1934 President Roosevelt
appointed him chairman of the TVA and in 1939 became judge on the United States Court of Appeals. He then became United States Solicitor General and 1941 hewas Roosevelt’s Attorney General. After Roosevelt’s death, President Truman appointed him a judge at the International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg.
Gettinghis memoirs, books and personal papers in order became a monumental task after his retirement as chairman of the Americans for Democratic Action and president of the American Civil Liberties Union. His things were in disarray. His office was a mess. His checkbook was out of whack and his life was headed toward the ‘blinking EXIT signs’. Papers were stacked on opposite desks in his makeshift office (read upstairs over the barn) across the courtyard from his house and he had intimidated enough ‘Gal’s Friday’ to cause adequate concern for his wife to prepare Sara for the job before even meeting Biddle.
In Joanna McClelland Glass’ heartwarming play, Trying, about the final year in Judge Francis Biddle’s life now in a solid production at Lamb’s Players Theatre starring Doug Waldo as Biddle and KelseyVenter as Sarah, McClelland’s stand in, the word ‘trying’ takes on many meanings. It is a trying time for both the Judge and his novice secretary. Both‘try’ to bridge the age gap and understand the other’s needs, although Biddle complains bitterly about not having enough time or energy to get involved in Sarah’s personal life.
The fact is though he becomes somewhat of a surrogate father by play’s end. Biddle tries to hang on until his work is complete while Sarah tries not
to let the crotchety judge dislodge her from her position or bully her around as she reprimanded the Judge, ‘Her father was abusive and she made up her mind
never to be abused again’. He admired her spunkiness (“Lace up your skates and hit the ice”.) and before long, came to depend on her more than he cared to
admit.
With director Kerry Meads at the helm and Waldo as the octogenarian, they both manage to portray both the vulnerability of his age and the
crotchetiness and bullheadedness of his youth. Some time ago, yours truly had seen another production of this play, in D.C. starring James Whitmore, and
thought very highly of it. In fact it’s such a charming and moving play (now that I’m older, especially) that the more I see it the more I can identify with
Biddle while trying to put myself in Sara’s shoes. A contradiction, I’m sure, but one most will be confronted with, as we get older.
As Biddle, Waldo’s expressions of pain when his arthritis kicks in; therepetitive directions he had forgotten he has given to Sarah about not turning
the floor heaters on; about the fiasco of his last secretary; about his impending death; about his insistence on using proper English; about his
education, his love of poetry and about losing a son at the age of seven are so real and heartfelt that one is instantly drawn into his world. All the little glimpses of a man who knew of his greatness and was ready to face his mortality, are seen in Waldo’s portrayal.
As Sarah, Kelsey Venter is a perfect foil for the crusty, yet predisposed Biddle. She is feisty, understanding and goes nose to nose in great harmony
with Biddle. Theirs is truly a friendship at plays end. Missing from Venter is a Canadian accent, but that proved to be a non issue as was, on opening night,
the fact that Waldo got off to a rocky start seemingly off book, but veered right back after a short time.
Michael McKeon’s set design is perfectly busy with the accumulation of a lifetime collection of precious books, photographs, typewriter, sundry office needs and an obligatory couch for much needed down time. Jemima Dutra’s period costumes are on target, Lila Lace Flores’ lighting design works for the most part although I would liketo have seen a softer look at plays end. Patrick Duffy’s sound design with actual recordings of F.D.R. speaking about significant moments in both Biddle’s and Roosevelt’s life at that time, add another dimension to this, most likely to some, forgotten time in history.
