Roberto Ragone brings a fascinating historical tale to the Sargent Theater

“Silence all your devices, someone’s immortal soul hangs in the balance!” requests a disembodied voice as the lights go down at the Sargent Theater.

Mid-20^th Century NY Congressman Vito Marcantonio can put in a claim to be the original maverick on the hill, and Roberto Ragone makes his case in the powerful one man show, The Purgatory Trial of Vito Marcantonio. Solely written and performed by Mr. Ragone, the play imagines Marcantonio in Limbo, defending his life and career and calling for his freedom in the beyond.

It’s the Off-Broadway debut for Mr. Ragone, who previously wrote and performed in Bromance-A-Roni (winner, Best Production, Midtown International Theatre Festival) and Five Consecutive Zeros (semi-finalist at the Strawberry Festival). He brings Congressman Marcantonio to vivid (after)life, telling the story of his seven terms serving East Harlem as one of the most left-wing members of The House of Representatives at the time, as part of the American Labor Party. The play imagines Marcantonio trapped in Purgatory after being “the only Catholic politician in history to be denied a Catholic burial.” Marcantonio, a former lawyer who grew up in the community he would come to represent, presents his case to be free from limbo in the form of alphabetically labeled exhibits, with the audience “serving” as jury.

Mr. Ragone commands the stage in a circa 1940s brown derby, grey suit and purple tie, as the spirit of Vito visiting his old East Harlem community. He prefaces the story of his life by first noting his tragic death at 51 from a heart attack in a pouring rain after climbing the subway stairs, fittingly right in front of City Hall. “I guess I wasn’t going to stage my political comeback after all,” he quips sadly. (The lack of a Catholic burial was politically motivated during the time of the McCarthy witch-hunts).

Mr. Ragone not only plays Marcantonio, but he also effortlessly switches to the portraying other key figures throughout his life, including FDR, Mayor Fiorello La Guardia, and his grandmother. He deftly changes his voice, posture, and stage position to reflect the different people in conversation with our protagonist.

Through Mr. Ragone we learn of Marcantonio’s championing of the Puerto Rican and Italian communities in his district, very much the victims of intense prejudice in the era. He was also a firm advocate for the civil rights of African-Americans long before it was a movement. He sponsored a bill to make lynching a federal crime, and fought to prohibit the poll tax instituted to block impoverished voters. He discusses the case of Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo, falsely accused of murder in 1927 and executed by “a corrupt Kangaroo court, completely corrupt, dismissive, and disdainful of due process….an injustice that impacted the very fiber of my being.”

It’s noted that Italian Americans went on to fight in World War 2 “in higher proportions than any other ethnic group.”

 “Despite the way they are stereotypically portrayed as ‘bums, bigots, and buffoons’, Italian Americans are a people whose lesson in community taught me to extend those ties to people of other races, creeds, and national origin.” (As well as a being a true hero of the disenfranchised, Marcantonio is humorously portrayed several times in the show as a big fan of alliteration).

Mr. Ragone’s performance as he discusses the injustices and prejudices of the time is one of such intensity and passion, that one feels they are hearing these words directly from Congressman Marcantonio.

“If you’re some kind of an idealist, out there proclaiming a vision, but you are bored, or indifferent to the everyday needs of people…then you are stuck in a cloud, an armchair, a limousine,” he proclaims. “If you offer services for a vote without a vision, then you’re just another Tammany Hall hack.”

My vote is to let his powerful spirit be free, and to be fondly remembered.

The Purgatory Trial of Vito Marcantonio is directed by Art Bernal, with original music by Horace Scott.