Mitsubishi Forklift FD30K MC Service

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MitsubishiDate modified: 2010Content:MIT Service Manual 99719-54120-00
Chassis, Mast, and Options: Foreword 3/1/2010 0.14 MBMIT Service Manual
99719-54120-01 Chassis, Mast, and Options: General Information 3/1/2010 0.44
MBMIT Service Manual 99719-54120-02 Chassis, Mast, and Options: Cooling
System 3/1/2010 0.12 MBMIT Service Manual 99719-54120-03 Chassis, Mast,
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and Options: Rear Axle 3/1/2010 0.57 MBMIT Service Manual 99719-54120-08
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 Dan Howard comes home discouraged. He cannot get work.
Christmas is approaching. His wife keeps his courage up and
that of the family. The Minister calls and is not received kindly by
Dan Howard, who does not believe in the church. He promises
to get Dan work and thus proves himself a true friend in need.
Misfortune has come to the home. The oldest boy is drinking
and the next son has been arrested for theft. Things looks very
black. It is Christmas eve and the father compels the children to
go to bed. He tells them Santa Claus will not come to-night. But
they hang up their stockings by the fireplace.

PART II

A year later. Things have changed. The home is better. All are
happy tonight. The father has had steady work and so they are
to have a good Christmas this year. The boys are doing well. The
family all go to church now and it has made a difference in them
all. The children have gone to bed with joy tonight. Dan Howard
tells his wife what a help she has been to him through thick and
thin. While they stand talking they hear the carol singers from
the church, singing outside their home. The Minister comes in
and is made very welcome. While they exchange greetings the
Christmas Carol is sung and the beautiful illuminated star shines
out in the night.

The following may be full of dramatic suggestion for its writer, but
if we mean by scenario a document which, when handed to a
manager or actor, is to arouse his enthusiasm because it tells him
interestingly just what a proposed play will do, this is not a scenario
at all.
 THE ETERNAL TRIANGLE: A NIGHTMARE

[Diagram of stage]

Dramatis Personæ

Sylvia Macshane, the actress.

Norman Pritchard, the manager.
Laddie Benton, the poet.
The Imp, sentinel at Ventilator X-10, Hell.

SCENE: Room in a well-furnished apartment, New York City.

Large round-topped window back right, matched by large
semicircular mirror over fireplace back left. Mirror space later
serves as Ventilator X-10.

SCENARIO

I. Curtain rises on crimson sunset in room of apartment.

Actress and Manager in jealous love scene.
Enter the bone of contention—the Poet.
Quarrel scene—Poet crushed.
By accident Actress drinks Poet’s suicide potion.
Poet strangles Manager, Actress smashes chair on Poet.
The lamp is knocked over.
Black darkness accompanied by shrieks.

II. In red glow of semi-circular opening appear Imp and two

mutes.
Humorous talk of their job, guarding this ventilator of Hell.
 The Poet’s face appears, followed by Manager’s and
Actress’.
Both Heaven and Hell have refused them admission.
Explanations by Imp—they are not truly dead.
Renewed quarrels—Actress shows she loves neither one.
She returns to earth.
They pursue her.
Imp is ordered to close ventilator.
Black darkness again.

III. Moonlight in the apartment.

Actress, Poet, and Manager where they fell on the floor.
They arouse—each believes the others ghosts.
Explanations—light;—the men’s quarrel renewed and
dropped forever.
Poet and Manager plan to make a play of the nightmare.
Actress is wildly jealous of their new-found friendship.
She cajoles each—then quarrels ferociously with each.
They are proof against her and prepare to go.
She demands a part in the play, gets it, and stamps off to
her room.
Poet and Manager depart cheerily planning.

Obviously General John Regan is offered not as a scenario, but a

summary. All the other so-called “scenarios” are planned only to
suggest to the writer or somebody fully acquainted with the content
of his mind on the subject what, in broadest terms, may be done
with the material. They are all too broadly referential, too vague, to
be of real use to a manager or actor looking for a play to produce.
 What, then, is the work a real scenario should do? It must show
clearly just what is the story, slight or complicated, which the play is
to present. It must make the reader understand who the people of
the play are, their relations to one another, and anything in their
past or present history which he must know if the play at the outset
or in its course is to produce upon him the effect desired by the
writer. It must tell him where the play takes place—that is, what the
settings are, and in such a way as to create atmosphere if anything
more than a mere suggestion of background is desirable. It must let
the reader see into how many acts the play will break up, and into
what scenes if there be more than one setting to an act. Above all, it
must make perfectly clear what is the nature of the play—comedy,
tragedy, tragi-comedy, farce, or melodrama, and whether it merely
tells a story, is a character study, a play of ideas, a problem play, or
a fantasy. Proportioning and emphasis as already explained in
chapters V and VI will, if rightly understood, bring out correctly in a
scenario all these matters of form and purpose.

A good scenario begins with a list of the dramatis personæ, that

is, a statement of the names and, broadly, the relations of the
characters to one another. If the ages are important, they may be
given. Without a list of dramatis personæ a reader must go far into
the scenario before he can decide who the people are and what are
their relations to one another. As the following scenario shows, he
may easily guess wrong and is sure to be uncertain:

SCENARIO. As the curtain rises Nat is seated at the right of

centre table, planning an attack upon a fort of blocks with an
army of wooden soldiers. A drum lies on the floor beside him.
Enter Benny, a bag over his shoulder. They salute each other
 and throughout use frequent military terms in their talk. Benny
has just returned from the village and he gives an account of his
trip and his purchases. Mention is made of the probable war
with Spain. Benny then surprises Nat with a letter from Harold,
which proves to contain an announcement that war has been
declared and that Harold has enlisted. The two are proud and
delighted at the thought of their hero. They recall his former
discontent on the farm, the day of his departure to seek his
fortune in the city, his statement that he was “no soldier”—now
so gloriously disproved. Harold enters in the midst of their
preparations for dinner. He is gaunt and shabby and has a
nervous hunted air. He receives their plaudits sullenly. He
explains that he is away on a week’s furlough and answers their
questions concerning the regiment and his plans with nervous
impatience....

In this next so-called scenario who is Professor Ward? What is his

relation to Phronie? What is her age? What is the age of Keith
Sanford and what are the relations of each of these to Professor
Ward himself? A good list of dramatis personæ would clear all this at
once.

THE EYES OF THE BLIND

ACT I

Professor Ward, roused at daybreak after a night at his desk,

shows intense disappointment and nervous fatigue.
 In brief scene with Phronie, he shows the essential part she
plays in his life as one on whom he can absolutely depend; but
when he expresses his disapproval of her admirer, Keith Sanford,
she shows clear signs of rebellious spirit.

In rapid scene with Phronie and Keith, their spirit of youthful

romance is made clear; and Keith indicates his college ambition,
his predicament regarding his “cribbed” thesis, and his new
attitude therein, ending with his evident resolve to make a clean
breast of the matter....

There follows a scenario which is somewhat clearer than the

others because it identifies the figures, but it certainly leaves their
relations rather confused.

An old white-haired man, the Sire de Maletroit, is seated in

the chair to right of fireplace, in a listening attitude. The sound
of a heavy door banging is heard and a minute later a young
man, sword in hand, parts the curtains on left and stands
blinking in the opening. He enters and explains that he has
accidentally gained entrance to the house and is unable to re-
open the door. His name is Denis de Beaulieu. He seems amazed
to have the old man say that he has been waiting for him. Denis
suggests that he must be going, at which the old man bursts
into a fit of laughter. Denis is insulted and offers to hew the
Maletroit’s door to pieces. He is convinced that this is folly; the
place is full of armed men. The old man rises, goes to door on
right and calls upon his niece to leave her prayers and receive
her lover. She comes in attended by a priest and protests that
 this is not the man. The uncle is incredulous and withdraws with
a leer.

Again a good list of dramatis personæ would be helpful.

Prefix to this the following:

THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR

Place: Château Landon.

Time: Fourteenth century.

Dramatis Personæ

Blanche, orphan niece of Sire de Maletroit.

A Priest, chaplain to Sire de Maletroit.
The Sire de Maletroit.
Denis de Beaulieu, a stranger.

With this prefixed we can read the scenario just quoted far more
comprehendingly.

Note how clearly the following two lists of dramatis personæ take
us to the scenario proper:

THE LEGACY
 The Persons

David Brice, a young attorney.

Reene Brice, his uncle.
Benjamin Doyle, his fiancée’s father.
Dr. Wangren, family physician.
Mrs. Brice, the mother.
”Ditto” Brice, the sister.
Katherine Doyle, fiancée.

THE CAPTAIN: A MELODRAMA

Dramatis Personæ

Captain La Rue, a little sea captain.

Bromley Barnes, former special investigator for the U.S. customs
service.
Patrick Clancy, his friend.
A burly Butler.
John Felspar, junior partner of the firm of Felspar & Felspar, wine
merchants.
Two Dinner Guests, members of the firm.
Carl Cozzens, the firm’s Canadian representative.

It is easy, however, to let this list of characters go too far

descriptively. For instance, this next list tells much which might
better appear first in the body of the scenario. The danger here is
one already mentioned in this book, namely, that such careful
characterizing in the dramatis personæ or program is likely to make
the characterization of the scenario or play inadequate.3

AN ENCORE

Adapted from the story by Margaret Deland

In Two Acts

Time: About 1830 in June.

Place: Little town of Old Chester.
Between the first and second acts three weeks elapse.

Dramatis Personæ

Captain Price: Retired sea-captain, big, bluff, and hearty, with

white hair and big white mustachios, rather untidy as to dress.
Age, about 68.

Cyrus Price: His son, weak and neat-looking, very thin and of
sandy complexion. Age, about 35.

Mrs. North: Sprightly, pretty, white-haired little lady of about

65. Always in black silk.

Miss North: Her daughter, nervous and shy, but truthful with a
mania for taking care of her mother and no knowledge of how
to wear her clothes; about 40.

Mrs. Gussie Price: A stout, colorless blond, a weeping, vividly

gowned lady, who rules her husband, Cyrus, through her tears.
Age, about 30.
 Flora: A colored maid.

The danger is shown to the utmost in the following. The

characterization in the scenario to which this was prefixed was
practically nil.

Forsythe Savile: A young lawyer of about thirty, clever, and

rather versatile. While of great promise in his profession, he is
not at all pedantic, but has many interests. He is well-read,
widely travelled, fond of outdoor sports, and is very popular.
Perhaps his most prominent characteristic is his ready wit. He is
rarely non-plussed, and while quick and pointed in his remarks,
is yet not ill-natured with them. He has been Dennings’ most
intimate friend ever since they were in college together,
although their lives lie along very divergent lines.

Richard Dennings: A globe trotter, as a hunter, explorer, and

war-correspondent. He is clever and able, with a tendency to act
on impulse rather than after deliberation. He is the closest kind
of friend to Forsythe. He has been engaged to Frances Langdon,
but the engagement has been broken off. This last fact is not
known to any save the two themselves.

Judge Savile: A widower, and Forsythe’s father. He has been a

very successful man, and holds a high place in his profession. He
is devoted to books, and cannot understand his son’s taste for
out-of-door life, and athletics in general. He philosophically
accepts the inevitable, however, and is very proud of Forsythe.
The Judge does not approve of the engagement of Frances
Langdon to Dennings; he cannot understand Dennings’
 uncertain methods of life. The Judge while saying very little of
his opinion foresees that matters are very far from being finally
settled, and is quietly awaiting developments.

Margaret Savile: Forsythe’s younger sister, and a feminine

edition of him. She is very pretty, bright, and attractive. She and
Forsythe are most intimate, more so than brother and sister
usually are.

Frances Langdon: An intimate friend of Margaret, and

familiarly known as “Frank.” She is essentially feminine,
attractive, witty and talented. She is very nervous and high-
strung—a strong character, but susceptible to her feelings. She
has known the Saviles since she was a child and is considered
exactly as a relative. She has broken her engagement to Richard
Dennings.

A butler: The usual English type.

That list tells so much about the characters that the scenario
proper could do little but repeat. The writer, troubled by his sense of
repetition, rested for his characterization on the slight chance that a
reader would remember every detail of the dramatis personæ. All
that a reader needs to know at the outset of a scenario is who the
characters are, and, in the broadest way, their relations to one
another.

A list of dramatis personæ should be followed with a statement of

the time and place if they are important, and of the settings for all
the acts. A detailed description of each new setting should precede
its scene or act.4 In the scenarios already quoted notice how difficult
it is to place the characters as far as setting is concerned and how
much would be gained if a good description of the setting were
added. Keep the description of a setting to essentials, that is,
furniture and decorations necessary to give requisite atmosphere or
required in the action of the piece. As always in scenarios and acting
editions use “left” and “right” as “left” and “right” of the actor, not of
the audience.

THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR (See p. 428)

SCENE: A large room in the house of the Sire de Maletroit;

large fireplace at centre back; curtained door on left leads to
stairway; curtained door right leads to chapel. The room is well
illuminated by candles, reflecting the polish of stone walls. It is
scantily furnished.

THE LEGACY (See p. 464)

THE SCENE: The Brice living-room comfortably furnished in

walnut. A piano centre L., a round table, rear R. Four entrances:
upper L., rear centre, upper right, right centre. Curtained
windows rear R. & L.

As has already been pointed out earlier in this book, it is wholly

unwise to call, in a description of a setting, for details not really
necessary. Here is the setting for the dramatis personæ quoted on p.
431. It is over-elaborate because the action of the proposed play
involves use of hardly any of the properties called for.
 SCENE: Forsythe Savile’s “den.” It is an odd room, a curious
mixture of library, smoking-room, and museum. On the right is a
large fireplace, over which are hung an elk’s head, a couple of
rifles, queer-looking Eastern weapons, and other sporting
trophies and evidences of travel. The room is panelled in dark
oak; low bookcases line the walls, and on top of the cases are
small bronzes, photographs, strange bits of bric-à-brac, and a
medley of things,—such truck as a man with cultivated tastes
would insist on accumulating. There are numerous pictures, a
rather heterogeneous lot; valuable engravings,—portraits of
famous lights of the bench and the bar, to judge by their wigs,—
a few oils of the Meissonier type; and others which are obviously
relics of college, with medals slung across them by brightly
coloured ribbons. The furniture of the room is of heavy oak,
upholstered in dull crimson leather. Capacious club armchairs are
in convenient places, near lamps and books. Around the hearth
is a high English fender, and before it is a great Davenport sofa.
On the left, is a broad-topped table-desk, covered with papers
and books, and bearing a squat bronze lamp with a crimson
shade. At one end of the Davenport is a low cabinet, on which
are glasses and decanters. There is a wide doorway at the back
of the stage which gives the only entrance and is hung with
heavy crimson portières. The centre of the floor is filled by a
huge polar bear-skin rug, with massive head and the odd spaces
are covered by smaller fur rugs. The stage is dark, save for the
uncertain, wavering light cast by the wood fire.
 Time: The present, and about half-past eight on a winter
evening.

A sketch of the desired arrangement of the stage should be

prefixed to the description of the setting. This may be as simple as
comports with clear picturing of the exact conditions required. Such
drawings not only help to clearness, they sometimes bring out
difficulties in a proposed setting not at once evident in a description.
Perhaps the staging called for in what immediately follows may not
seem over-elaborate in the reading. A diagram at once shows its
awkwardness, expensiveness, and undesirability.
 THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR

The scene represents a mediæval outer hall of a powerful

nobleman of Paris with the approach thereto, the streets
adjacent and several other buildings thereon, at 11.30 P.M., the
streets in semi-darkness. This hall runs clear down the stage to
within the width of a narrow street of the footlights. This street is
supposed to run clear across the stage. The approach to the hall
from without is through two doors left which open into a gloomy
passageway large enough to contain a dozen soldiers. The door
to the left of these two entrances opens inward from the street
running up left at right angles to the street by the footlights,
leaving room enough at the extreme left for several doorways
which should be set into the houses so as to form a place
sufficient to hide a man who was being searched for on the
sidewalk. At the extreme rear of the street going up the stage is
stone pavement. The walls of the palace are of thick stones and
the furnishings of the hall are plain and gloomy consisting of
chairs and a table, a tall clock with a loud tick, curtains at the
doors; and over the fireplace, which is huge, hang a shield and
helmet, the former emblazoned with the device of the family, the
latter beplumed, while under them are two long swords, crossed,
with their points hidden behind the shield, these blades both in
their scabbards. The floors are all of stone.

At the right of the fireplace are two wide doors which when
opened give a full view of the chapel beyond, with the attar to
the rear in the centre. The chapel need show no more than a
private altar, the accompanying candles, drapery, and steps,
lighted with a single hanging lamp of the period that swings
before the first step of the altar.

The chairs and table in the hall are of mission style. The doors
opening on the street from all of the establishments are very
wide, embossed in iron bands and supplied with knockers, heavy
bolts and bars on the inside wherever the inside is exposed.
There is a large fire in the fireplace. A lamp of the period is
swung with heavy chains over the table.

The diagram on the next page shows how this would look.
 It is in many ways a bad setting. Waiving all question whether any
attempt to suggest the fourth wall of a room, as in The Passing of the
Third Floor Back by the fireplace at centre front of stage is wise,
surely there can be no doubt that to ask an audience to imagine a
street between them and the room into which they are looking,
particularly when no necessary action takes place in that street, is
undesirable. Therefore the suggested “street” across the front of the
stage may go. Where is the value of the street at the side? Little, if
any, action in it will be seen except by the very small part of the
audience directly in line with it. For these the settings below the
doors at stage left must be decidedly pushed back or they will lose
important action by the fireplace. It is questionable, too, whether the
fireplace should not be moved down stage to one side or the other,
so important is the facial expression of the Sire de Maletroit as he sits
by it. For effective action, it is better, also, to separate fireplace and
chapel entrance. It is both easy and for acting purposes better, to
stage this proposed play with a setting as simple as this:
 Gothic stone interior: Doors, centre leading to Chapel or
Oratory; lower right and up left. All doors with old tapestry
curtains. Deep mullioned window up right with landscape
backing. Large Gothic fireplace, with hooded chimney, left.
Corridor backings for all doors. Large armchair left centre in front
of fireplace; large oak table right centre, with chairs on either
side; other furniture of period to dress stage. Altar and
furnishings for Chapel.

Nowadays descriptions of settings are noticeably free from the

mystic R.U.E., L. 2 E., D.L.C., etc., which characterized stage
directions of the early Victorian period. When wings and flats, as in
some wood-scenes today, were used for indoor as well as outdoor
scenes—that is, before the coming of the box-set—the stage was
divided in this way:

Now that the box-set has replaced the older fashion and new
devices are steadily improving on the old wood-wings, it is enough to
indicate clearly in the diagram and in the description what doors,
windows, fireplaces, and properties are necessary, and exactly where,
if their positions are essential in the action. If not, they may be
placed to suit the sense of proportion of the designer of the scenery
and the sense of fitness of the producer. In any case, rarely today
does an author need to use all or many of these stage divisions of an
older day. The first of the following diagrams shows how simply an
interior set which makes no special demands may be indicated.

THE DANCING GIRL. ACT I5

Diana Valrose’s boudoir at Richmond. A very elegantly

furnished room, with light, pretty furniture. Discover Drusilla in
handsome morning dress arranging flowers in large china bowl.
Enter footman, announcing Mr. Christison. Enter John. Exit
Footman.