When I decided to enter Delaware s Bicentennial playwriting

contest I sat before my typewriter feeling noble, visions of gallant patri-

ots stirring in my head, most looking like an 18th-century costume ball.

I decided to focus on John Dickinson, a man who had contributed much

to Delaware and the nation, and I thought I was well on my way.

But as I began to research the story and its presentation, it evolved

not as a stiff historical pageant but as a story of process, process of new,

emerging nation mingled with process of new play being created. Read-

~ng deeper into Dickinson s life, I found a man of the pen who was also

a man of action, a man particularly relevant today since he was a po-

litical figure who upheld his principles even in the face of great adversity.

He has been unfairly represented primarily as the man who declined to

sig~n the Declaration of Independence. Yet his motives for not signing

and his many contributions to America are quite exemplary.

For a setting I did not want one fixed place or a series of scenes

in chronological tandem. The format had to be simple and flexible. I

must admit to being inspired by my rather uninspiring 5th period History

classes, which were little more than cumbersome recitations on trading

and taxation. It seemed important for me to try to enliven this particu-

lar slice of history to show it not as a series of events but as a happen,

ing, electric, varied, tempestuous.

It was from this thinking that I developed the Revolution Ma-

chine, an ensemble of actors performing in the improvisational, story

theatre vein. The actors become a multiple of characters, scenic transi,

tions and narration as well as supple background to the actual quotes of

John Dickinson. It is important to note that everything Dickinson says

on stage is an actual quotation taken from his various writings. Against

this colorful tableau vivant of the Revolution Machine, Dickinson is

set in his authenticity.