Sorry, Wrong Number

“Aside from its emphasis on mechanics, this play requires acting above all […] by every subordinate player, brief though his bit may be. Each should present a little vignette of human nature […].”

The supporting characters in the play emphasize the theme of Selfishness Versus Civic Duty. Though most of them only appear for a brief moment, Fletcher utilizes each of them to reflect society’s mechanical lack of empathy. The operators don’t flinch when Mrs. Stevenson reports the murder plot she overheard, and Sergeant Duffy tells her the details are too vague. The “important matters” he must attend to instead are his dessert options on his desk. Ultimately, Fletcher portrays humans as unfeeling, selfish, and entitled.

“It is life itself which Mrs. Stevenson strives so frantically to make contact with over her telephone […].”

Mrs. Stevenson’s desperate attempt to connect with the outside world symbolizes the isolation and ostracization that can be felt by people with disabilities in an ableist community. Mrs. Stevenson is quickly dismissed by those she calls as an anxious woman who doesn’t know what she’s saying. Mrs. Stevenson wants for nothing more than companionship. When she reaches out through her only means of contact, she finds not human empathy, but mechanical apathy.

“Only by doing this will her lonely, neurotic personality be outlined for the empty thing it is.”

Part of Mrs. Stevenson’s isolation is due to her rude and demeaning nature towards others. She snaps at the operators, calls them names, and responds in anger when she is denied what she wants. Her bitterness does not bode well for her dependency on others, and it is implied that this balance motivates Elbert to plot her murder.

“You know the address. At eleven o’clock the private patrolman goes around to the bar on Second Avenue for a beer.”

These specifics concerning the murder are Mrs. Stevenson’s first reasons for alarm. With horror, Mrs. Stevenson realizes that the description matches her neighborhood. While she does not yet believe there is reason to believe she is the intended victim, she does all she can to keep her own neighborhood safe in case there is a chance she’s in danger.

“At eleven-fifteen a subway train crosses the bridge. It makes a noise in case her window is open, and she should scream.”

When Mrs. Stevenson overhears the murder plot, the literary device of the ticking clock is introduced. Suddenly, solving the mysterious phone call is much more urgent. Now that the neighborhood described matches her own, Mrs. Stevenson is anxious to have human protection at her side, instead of just her telephone.

“Make it quick. As little blood as possible. Our client does not wish to make her suffer long.”

The 1st Man’s line about his and George’s client is the first hint that Elbert might be the orchestrator of the murder. The desire to make it a more humane murder indicates that there is a more intimate and personal relationship between the client and the victim. Evidence of a guilty conscience would be a stretch, but there is certainly more care in this murderer than what one would expect of a stranger.

“[…] they were going to murder somebody—some poor innocent woman—who was all alone—in a house near a bridge. And we’ve got to stop them—[…]”

When Mrs. Stevenson feels a kinship with the intended victim, she projects onto herself a sense of duty to protect this person and takes it upon herself to solve the mystery. As the night wears on and she becomes less and less certain of her own safety, her motives become clearer: She wishes to protect herself under the guise of helping another person.

“Oh—why are you so stupid? Look—it was obviously a case of some little slip of the finger.”

Mrs. Stevenson is not a very likable protagonist. The complexities of her character bleed into the complexities of the themes—Isolation and Apathy and Selfishness Versus Civic Duty, specifically. This forces readers to think more critically about the play. Mrs. Stevenson is mean, calls people names, degrades them, and complains unceasingly; she is not a more obvious victim who is completely innocent.

“It’s my civic duty—it’s your civic duty—to trace that call . . . and to apprehend those dangerous killers […].”

One of the tactics Mrs. Stevenson uses to get help from the operators is by telling them it is their civic duty to help. At this, the operator agrees to connect Mrs. Stevenson with the Chief Operator. However, the trail ends there. Mrs. Stevenson’s demanding and entitled attitude does not get her far with the Chief Operator. She is directed to call the police instead, as the operators (civic duty or not) are not authorized to trace calls without word from the police. As with the mechanic of the telephone, Fletcher portrays the machine of business and bureaucratic systems as another obstacle to empathy.

“I’ve been trying to trace down the call myself, but everybody is so stupid—and I guess in the end you’re the only people who can do anything.”

When Mrs. Stevenson has exhausted all other routes for tracing the call, she gives in and goes to the police. She is sure to tell Sergeant Duffy that she has been trying to do this without their help, and her meanness spills out when she comments on the stupidity of the operators. Sergeant Duffy is not impressed with her tone and is more reluctant to talk to her.

“I hate to be alone—even though he says I’m perfectly safe as long as I have the telephone right beside my bed.”

Here, the playwright demonstrates the irony of Mrs. Stevenson thinking she’s safe with the telephone beside her, since the telephone has been causing her trouble all night. The telephone is how Mrs. Stevenson first overhears the call, then is not taken seriously, and finally receives the telegram from her husband saying he won’t be home. Her husband’s reassurances become an omen of her demise.

“I’d say the whole thing calls for a search—a complete and thorough search of the whole city. […] And I know I’d feel a whole lot better if you sent a radio car to this neighborhood at once.”

Once again, Mrs. Stevenson starts her argument for protective measures by making it about civic duty and the greater good, only to bring it back to her own neighborhood and safety. Even though she is asking (on the surface) for a city-wide search, it is the second part of the quote that shows what she really expects from Sergeant Duffy: a personal guarantee of safety.

“Supposing you’d got your husband the way you always do? Would this murder have made any difference to you then?”

Finally, Sergeant Duffy calls Mrs. Stevenson’s bluff. When he asks her this question, she is forced to admit that she would not have cared as much if she had simply been able to get in touch with her husband. She is not as worried for this random woman as she is letting on; in actuality, it is for her own life she fears. Though he never appears onstage, Fletcher maintains the audience’s awareness of Elbert—and his notable absence—to implicate him as the most likely architect of his wife’s murder.

“Telephones are funny things.”

Lucille Fletcher practically writes the telephone as its own character in the play. It is the driving force behind the entire story, and seems to act with a mind of its own, between the crossed wires and miscommunications. Following the theme of Communication in Relationships, the telephone represents the people in the play who have a hard time communicating. Just like the telephone, people can be unpredictable and are never as reliable as one makes them out to be.

“ […] my husband Elbert—he’s crazy about me—adores me—waits on me hand and foot—he’s scarcely left my side since I took sick twelve years ago—.”

At this point in the play, the reader knows that Mrs. Stevenson is an unreliable narrator in describing her husband’s loyalty. After pages of seeing Mrs. Stevenson act unkindly towards everyone she talks to, and then learning that her husband is constantly at her side and has been for years, a motive begins to unfold. Perhaps, readers deduce, Elbert felt trapped in his marriage to a disagreeable and selfish woman. This is another clue that hints (but never discloses for sure) that Elbert could be the client who arranged the murder.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with this telephone tonight, but it’s positively driving me crazy. I’ve never seen such inefficient, miserable service.”

For the first time, Mrs. Stevenson is not given exactly what she wants at the exact moment she wants it. The telephone, which has always been reliable and there for her, seems to have suddenly turned on her. Likewise, her husband, who has been by her side for 12 years, is suddenly unreachable for the first time. The parallels between the two are strong, and work to reinforce the theme of communication issues in relationships.

“Tried to get you for last hour, but line busy. Leaving for Boston eleven p.m. tonight on urgent business. Back tomorrow afternoon.”

This telegram is a crucial element to Sorry, Wrong Number for a variety of reasons. First, it is the last word Mrs. Stevenson receives from her husband, but the first time the audience hears something in his own voice. The note is final: Mrs. Stevenson will not hear from Elbert again tonight. Additionally, the note serves as an alibi for Elbert. He is conveniently leaving on a train for Boston 15 minutes before the stabbing of his wife is to occur.

“He couldn’t do it! Not when he knows I’ll be all alone.”

Upon receipt of the telegram, Mrs. Stevenson is still convinced that her husband is incapable of betraying her by leaving her alone through the night. Even further from her mind is the idea that he might be the one who wants her dead. This, in fact, is another clue that points to Elbert’s guilt. Leaving Mrs. Stevenson all alone (when he knows she is afraid) is clearly out of character for him, and is therefore suspicious activity.

“I don’t care what he says—or what the expense is—I’m a sick woman—I’m entitled….”

Towards the end of the play, Mrs. Stevenson’s demands get more intense. She has long dropped the civic duty act and is instead informing anyone who will listen that she is ill. Mrs. Stevenson is intent on finding someone to stay with her, one way or another. Now that Elbert is not returning to her, she must find other people who she can pay to stay with her.

“Nerves. I’m very nervous. I need soothing—and companionship.”

At the heart of it, this is what Mrs. Stevenson wants. She wants companionship from her husband, she wants to connect with the outside world, and she wants most of all not to feel so isolated and lonely. This directly connects her physical isolation (over which she has little control) and her emotional isolation (which, Fletcher argues, she has largely created for herself).

“We quite understand that, madam. But registered nurses are very scarce right now—and our superintendent has asked us to send people out only on cases where the physician in charge feels it is absolutely necessary.”

With these words, the receptionist at the hospital destroys Mrs. Stevenson’s last hopes of securing a companion for the evening. The rules, in fact, do apply to her as well, and must be obeyed. Though Mrs. Stevenson argues that she is owed a nurse, she lacks the proper documentation and is ultimately denied her wish: another obstacle of red tape and an inefficient system.

“Oh, my clock has stopped. I thought it was running down. What time is it?”

At this moment, the “ticking clock” has run out. Just after this, the receptionist on the line tells her that it is 11:14, which means the murder will happen at any second. This is a clever way Lucille Fletcher draws out the suspense for audiences and/or readers. The time had almost been forgotten amidst the chaotic phone calling. When it is finally mentioned again, time is up.

“I cannot hear you, madam. Please speak louder.”

For the duration of the play, Mrs. Stevenson has been the one complaining about miscommunication over the phone. When the intruder enters, ironically, it forces her to lower her voice to the point where the receptionist can’t understand her. After spending the entire play complaining, she is now the one who is unable to communicate effectively on the telephone.