My paternal grandmother lived in Kansas City in the early 20th century. The music halls in Kansas City were cheap and accessible in those days, and many widely-known figures would come to play in Kansas City.
Helen Keller was one of those players. My grandmother said that Helen had to have an interpreter present on stage, not only to convey questions to her, but to interpret her spoken words, since Helen never really mastered speaking well enough to be understood by strangers. At the times my grandmother saw Helen, the companion was not her beloved Teacher, but Helen's sister, Mildred.
I've read many versions of Helen's story, and so I'm not sure whether the significance of this sister is included in the play. As Helen herself later recounted, Helen came in and found her baby sister lying in the crib Helen was accustomed to put her own doll in. Helen unceremoniously dumped her sister out of the cradle (fortunately, somebody witnessed the incident, and caught the baby as she fell), and put her doll in the cradle.
It was this incident that made the already frantic efforts of Helen's family to get a cure for her all the more desperate. It was because her family had refused to believe there was no cure for her blindness and deafness that they had insisted on a cure INSTEAD of having her educated. Really she should have begun getting tuition immediately after she lost her sight and hearing (at 19 months). It wouldn't have done any harm even if she were curable, but if there was no cure, it was essential.
When they reached the stage of desperation, they took Helen to see Dr Alexander Graham Bell, who agreed with other doctors that Helen's disabilities were not curable: but who pointed out that it was possible to educate her.
The play tells more about Annie Sullivan's history than most sources (taken from her letters, probably), though it doesn't go on to deal with other things (such as that Annie was not 'formerly' blind. She had to tend her eyes very carefully even in this period, and had to have operations to restore her sight several times afterward), because they're after the period of the story.
I have to say that I do understand the urgency of the situation. Though it's not true that Helen had learned nothing before (she had developed a sort of gestural pidgin, which was probably more effective than anybody gives it credit for), if it had been left much longer, it's doubtful Helen would have been able to develop the remarkable linguistic skills she later had. She might have been able to learn a little language (Laura Bridgman, the first recipient of training in fingerspelling, was limited in her linguistic capacities, and this may be because she was already eight when her teaching began), but it's unlikely that Helen would have gotten as good at it as she did.
Nevertheless, I can't go along with the people who argue that the cruel treatment Annie meted out was justifiable. Granted, Annie was quite young at the time, and she hadn't really been given much training in education methods. But still...there were no doubt better ways to teach even an obstinate child like Helen. A preliminary study of the pidgin Helen and her family had developed would have been a good start.
The 'miracle' in the title is well-described by Helen in her own works. It's a little disturbing that the vital word had to go back to Helen's early verbalizations, however. Helen had, after all, her own sign for 'mother'. But it's interesting in another way. Most children's realization that language has meaning happen so early they don't remember it: Helen, at seven, remembered it clearly, and was able to reduce it to very evocative words.
In fact, focusing on the 'miracle', however much of a breakthrough it truly was, in many ways falsifies the picture. Except when Helen insisted on learning to speak (because she wanted to be able to communicate with people who didn't understand fingerspelling), Annie Sullivan was involved, as translator, tutor, and aide, in all of Helen's vigorous attempts at self-education through college. Annie insisted that she couldn't teach speech to Helen, so it was farmed out. But one thing that Annie DID teach Helen in this period was how to read and write. This was done not only via Braille, but also with a form of block printing, and with type-like wooden blocks; and later, Helen learned to use a typewriter. Helen's first letters were as crude and inept as most of her age-mates'. But she very soon mastered the smooth literary style that made her so skilled at communicating.
The main problem with this play is that it leaves Helen frozen in time as the electrified child. Helen Keller turned seven in 1887, and she didn't die until 1968, a few weeks before her 88th birthday. She wrote the classic Story of My Life to help pay for her college education. She was quite renowned in her childhood (she was friends with Mark Twain, who died in 1911), but her life didn't end with her childhood. One measure of how little the real woman was known is that people either never knew, or forget, that the adult Helen was a co-founder of the ACLU. Helen Keller was never in her life the 'angel on the hearth' of Victorian fantasies. She didn't stop being strong-willed when she learned to communicate: frustration didn't make her stubborn; rather stubbornness made her frustrated, since she wouldn't give up, and couldn't succeed. Mastering language help alleviate the frustration, but not the obstinacy.
In her later life, Keller became a fairly well-known advocate of radical causes: but this fact is often ignored in stories about her. A postscript added to the play might not go amiss--or an introduction with further information. I'm pretty sure the edition I read (which I don't think was this one) didn't have this sort of biographical information.