"MARTY"
Screenplay by
Paddy Chayefsky
SHOOTING DRAFT
1955
NEW YORK CITY, 187TH STREET. A SUMMER DAY
FADE IN:
Just east of Webster Avenue in the North Bronx, 187th Street
is a predominantly Italian community and the commercial avenue
of the neighborhood. Fruit and vegetable stands, pizzerias,
butcher shops, bakeries, cleaners and dyers and bars flourish.
It is Saturday morning around eleven o'clock -- a market
day.
WOMEN, dark, gesticulative, with bulging cloth shopping bags,
baby carriages. MERCHANTS at their improvised street stands,
hawking their wares, disputing with their CUSTOMERS, roaring
salutations to PASSERSBY.
In the midst of all this, CAMERA HOMES IN on a typical
neighborhood...
BUTCHER SHOP.
Delicatessens hang on the walls, wreathed with garlands of
garlic. PATSY, the boss, a swarthy man of sixty, is flopping
a chunk of beef onto the scale for the benefit of a forty-
year-old MATRON. There are three or four other WOMEN in the
shop, all talking to one another. A four-year-old BOY lazily
chases a cat.
The white refrigerator room door opens, and a second butcher,
MARTY PILLETTI, comes out carrying a large leg of lamb. Marty
is a mildmannered, short, stout, balding man of thirty-four.
His charm lies in an almost indestructible good humor. He
drops the leg of lamb onto the chopping block, reaches up
for the cleaver hanging with the other utensils over the
block and makes quick incisive cuts into the leg of lamb. He
sets the cleaver aside, picks up the saw to finish the cuts
as he chats with his customer, MRS. FUSARI.
MRS. FUSARI
Your kid brother got married last
Sunday, eh, Marty?
MARTY
(sawing away)
That's right, Missus Fusari. It was
a very nice affair.
MRS. FUSARI
That's the big tall one, the fellow
with the moustache.
MARTY
(still sawing)
No, that's my other brother, Freddie.
My other brother Freddie, he's been
married four years already. He lives
down on Webb Avenue. The one who got
married Sunday, that was my little
brother, Nickie.
MRS. FUSARI
I thought he was a big tall fat
fellow. Didn't I meet him here one
time? Big tall, fat fellow, he tried
to sell me life insurance?
Marty sets the five chops on the scale, watches its weight
register.
MARTY
No, that's my sister Margaret's
husband, Frank. My sister Margaret,
she's married to the insurance
salesman, and my sister Rose, she
married a contractor. They moved to
Detroit last year. And my other sister
Frances, she got married about two
and a half years ago in Saint John's
Church on Kingsbridge Avenue. Oh,
that was a big affair. Well, let's
see now, that'll be about a dollar-
seventy-nine. How's that with you?
MRS. FUSARI
Well...
Mrs. Fusari produces an old leather change purse from her
pocketbook and painfully extracts one single dollar bill and
seventy-nine cents to the penny and lays the money piece by
piece on the counter. From the rear of the shop a woman's
VOICE rings out.
WOMAN'S VOICE
(off-screen)
Hey, Marty, I'm inna hurry.
MARTY
You're next right now, Missus Canduso.
MRS. FUSARI
When you gonna get married, Marty?
You should be ashamed of yourself.
All your brothers and sisters, they
all younger than you, they married
and they got children. I just saw
your mother inna fruit shop, and she
says to me, "Hey, you know a nice
girl for my boy Marty?" Watsa matter
with you? That's no way. Now you get
married.
MARTY
(amiably)
Missus Fusari, Missus Canduso over
there, she's inna big hurry, and...
Mrs. Fusari takes her parcel of meat, but apparently she
feels she still hasn't quite made her point.
MRS. FUSARI
My son Frank, he was married when he
was nineteen years old. Watsa matter
with you?
MARTY
That's swell, Missus Fusari.
MRS. FUSARI
You should be ashamed of yourself.
She takes her package of meat. Marty gathers up the money on
the counter, turns to the cash register behind him to ring
up the sale. Mrs. Canduso sidles up to the counter.
MRS. CANDUSO
Marty, I want a nice, big fat pullet,
about four pounds. I hear your kid
brother got married last Sunday.
MARTY
Yeah, it was a very nice affair.
MRS. CANDUSO
Marty, you oughta be ashamed. All
your kid brothers and sisters married
and have children. When you gonna
get married?
NEIGHBORHOOD BAR. LATE AFTERNOON
A TV set on the wall. Mel Allen, smoking a White Owl cigar,
is recapping the baseball game that has just finished as
Marty comes in.
MARTY
(to two YOUNG MEN
leaving)
What happened?
YOUNG MAN
The Yanks took two.
MARTY
Any homers?
The Young Men exit without answering. Marty moves further
into the bar, which is crowded with locals, smoky, noisy.
ACROSS GROUP at bar with Marty in the background approaching,
we see a group consisting of RALPH, who wears a suit and
tie, the only man in the room who isn't in shirtsleeves or a
Basque shirt; JOE, thirty-two, hunched over a girlie magazine;
a KID, twenty-two, studying the magazine over Joe's shoulder.
MARTY
(to the Kid)
Angie come in yet?
The Kid indicates a booth where a small wasp of a man, mid-
thirties, is sitting, bent over the sports pages of the Daily
News.
RALPH
So these two girls come over to the
bar...
MARTY
Hey, Ang'...
RALPH
...and they sit down right next to
me...
MARTY
You want a beer, Ang'?
RALPH
I look over at this one nexta me,
not bad, about thirty-five -- Hiya,
Marty...
MARTY
Hiya, Ralph...
RALPH
...I been talking about two nurses
Leo and me picked up in a bar on
Seventy-First Street.
MARTY
(to Bartender)
Hey, Lou, gimme two bottles-a beer...
RALPH
So, Marty, lemme tell you about these
nurses, Marty...
MARTY
(to Joe studying his
magazine)
Waddaya read there, Joe?
AD LIB VOICE
(off-screen)
Hey, Lou, turn the television off!
RALPH
Turns out these two girls are nurses
in some hospital on a Hundred and
Fourth Street...
JOE
They shouldn't sell magazines like
this on a public newsstand...
MARTY
That's the truth.
JOE
(turning a page)
Can you imagine the effect this has
on adolescents?
RALPH
So, Marty, let me tell you about
these nurses...
MARTY
(reaching for two
bottles of beer
proffered by the
Bartender)
What nurses?
RALPH
The nurses Leo and me picked up last
night. We got a date with them
tonight.
MARTY
(moving off to Angie's
booth)
You still owe me ten bucks from last
week, if that's what you're working
up to.
Joe turns another page in the girlie magazine.
JOE
Now that's something, eh?
RALPH
I used to go out with a girl like
that...
THE KID
You should live so long.
THE BOOTH.
Marty joins his friend Angie and pushes a bottle of beer at
him, pulling one of the pages loose from the paper Angie is
reading. For a moment, the two men sit quietly, each poring
over his separate piece of newspaper.
ANGIE
(without looking up)
So waddaya feel like doing tonight?
MARTY
I don't know, Ang'. Wadda you feel
like doing?
ANGIE
Well, we oughta do something. It's
Saturday night. I don't wanna go
bowling like last Saturday. How about
calling up that big girl we picked
up inna movies about a month ago in
the RKO Chester?
MARTY
(not very interested)
Which one was that?
ANGIE
That big girl that was sitting in
front of us with the skinny friend.
MARTY
Oh, yeah.
ANGIE
We took them home alla way out in
Brooklyn. Her name was Mary Feeney.
What do you say? You think I oughta
give her a ring? I'll take the skinny
one.
MARTY
She probably got a date by now, Angie.
ANGIE
Well, let's call her up. What can we
lose?
MARTY
I didn't like her, Angie. I don't
feel like calling her up.
ANGIE
Well, what do you feel like doing
tonight?
MARTY
I don't know. What do you feel like
doing?
ANGIE
Well, we're back to that, huh? I say
to you, "What do you feel like doing
tonight?" And you say to me, "I don't
know, what do you feel like doing?"
And then we wind up sitting around
your house with a coupla cansa beer,
watching Sid Caesar on television.
Well, I tell you what I feel like
doing. I feel like calling up this
Mary Feeney. She likes you.
MARTY
What makes you say that?
ANGIE
I could see she likes you.
MARTY
Yeah, sure.
ANGIE
(half-rising in his
seat)
I'll call her up.
MARTY
You call her up for yourself, Angie.
I don't feel like calling her up.
Angie sits down again. They both return to their papers for
a moment. Then Angie looks up again.
ANGIE
How about going downa Seventy-Second
Street, see what we can find? Ralph
says you have to beat them off with
clubs.
Marty makes a wry face at the suggestion.
ANGIE
Boy, you're getting to be a real
drag, you know that?
MARTY
Angie, I'm thirty-four years old. I
been looking for a girl every Saturday
night of my life. I'm tired of
looking. Everybody's always telling
me to get married. Get married. Get
married. Don't you think I wanna get
married? I wanna get married. They
drive me crazy. Now, I don't wanna
wreck your Saturday night for you,
Angie. You wanna go somewhere, you
go ahead. I don't wanna go.
ANGIE
My old lady, every word outta her
mouth, when you gonna get married?
MARTY
My mother, boy, she drives me crazy.
Angie leans back in his seat, scowls at the paper napkin
container on the booth table. Marty returns to the sports
page. For a moment, a silence hangs between them.
ANGIE
So what do you feel like doing
tonight?
MARTY
(without looking up)
I don't know. What do you feel like
doing?
BARTENDER
(from phone booth in
background)
Marty, your mother wants you onna
phone.
MARTY
(rising in response;
to Angie)
Come on over about half past seven,
we'll think of something.
(settles into the
phone booth, picks
up the receiver)
Hello, Ma, what's the matter?
PILLETTI HOME, LIVING ROOM.
It's a typical lower-middle-class Italian home, and MRS.
PILLETTI is on the phone, a round, dark woman. Beyond her,
in the dining room, we can see a young couple -- THOMAS,
Marty's cousin, and his wife VIRGINIA, seated at the dining
room table.
MRS. PILLETTI
(voice lowered)
Hello, Marty, when you coming home?
Where you now? Because your cousin
Thomas and his wife Virginia, they're
here. They had another fight with
your Aunt Catherine... I don't know...
THE BAR.
MARTY
(in the phone booth)
I'm coming home right now, Ma. I'll
be home in about two minutes. Tell
Thomas stick around, I wanna see him
about something.
PILLETTI HOME, LIVING ROOM.
Mrs. Pilletti is on the phone.
MRS. PILLETTI
Okay, you come on home, okay.
She hangs up, braces herself, turns and starts back to Thomas
and Virginia in the dining room.
MRS. PILLETTI
He coming home right now.
VIRGINIA
So what happened, Aunt Theresa, about
the milk bottle was my mother-in-
law, she comes inna kitchen, Aunt
Theresa, and she begins poking her
head over my shoulder here and poking
her head over my shoulder there, so
then she begins telling me how I
waste money and how I can't cook,
and how I'm raising my baby all wrong,
so she got me so nervous, I spilled
some milk I was making for the baby...
MRS. PILLETTI
She was here, you know, Wednesday,
and I said, "Catherine, my sister..."
VIRGINIA
So she say, "You're spilling the
milk." So she kept talking about
these coupla drops of milk I spilled,
so she got me so mad, so I said,
"Mama, you wanna see me really spill
some milk?" So I took the bottle,
and I threw it against the door. I
didn't throw it at her. That's just
something she made up. She goes around
telling everybody I threw the bottla
milk at her. I didn't throw it
anywheres near her. Well, I was sorry
right away, you know, but she ran
outta the house.
MRS. PILLETTI
Well, I don't know what you want me
to do, Virginia. If you want me,
I'll go talk to her tonight.
Thomas and Virginia suddenly frown and look down at their
hands as if of one mind.
THOMAS
Well, I'll tell you, Aunt Theresa...
VIRGINIA
Lemme tell it, Tommy.
THOMAS
Okay.
VIRGINIA
We want you to do a very big favor
for us, Aunt Theresa.
MRS. PILLETTI
Sure.
VIRGINIA
Aunt Theresa, you got this big house
here. I mean, you got this big house
just for you and Marty. And I thought
maybe Tommy's mother could come here
and live with you and Marty.
MRS. PILLETTI
Well...
VIRGINIA
Because I called up Tommy's brother
Joe, and I said, "Joe, she's driving
me crazy. Why don't you take her for
a couple of years?" And he said, "Oh
no!" I know I sound like a terrible
woman...
MRS. PILLETTI
No, Virginia, I know how you feel.
VIRGINIA
(on the verge of tears)
I just can't stand it any more! Every
minute of the day! Do this! Do that!
I don't have ten minutes privacy
with my husband! We can't even have
a fight! We don't have no privacy!
Everybody's miserable in our house!
THOMAS
All right, Ginnie, don't get so
excited.
MRS. PILLETTI
She's right. She's right. Young
husband and wife, they should have
their own home. And my sister
Catherine, she's my sister, but I
gotta admit, she's an old goat. And
plenty-a times in my life, I feel
like throwing the milk bottle at her
myself. And I tell you now, as far
as I'm concerned, if Catherine wantsa
come live here with me and Marty,
it's all right with me.
Virginia promptly bursts into tears.
THOMAS
(not far from tears
himself, lowers his
face)
That's very nice-a you, Aunt Theresa.
MRS. PILLETTI
We gotta ask Marty, of course.
THOMAS
Sure.
MRS. PILLETTI
(rises)
You just sit here, I gotta turn the
fire on under the cooking.
(exits into the kitchen)
VIRGINIA
(having mastered her
tears)
That's very nice-a you, Aunt Theresa.
THOMAS
(calling to his aunt
in the kitchen)
How's Marty been lately, Aunt Theresa?
MRS. PILLETTI
(off-screen)
Oh, he's fine. You know a nice girl
he can marry?
She comes back into the dining room, wiping her hands on a
kitchen towel.
THOMAS
Oh, he'll get married, don't worry,
Aunt Theresa.
MRS. PILLETTI
(sitting down again)
Well, I don't know. He sits arounna
house alla time. You know a place he
can go where he can find a bride?
THOMAS
Well, there's the Stardust Ballroom.
That's a kind of a big dance hall.
Every Saturday night, it's just loaded
with girls. It's a nice place to go.
You pay seventy-seven cents. It used
to be seventy-seven cents. It must
be about a buck and half now. And
you go in and you ask some girl to
dance. That's how I met Virginia.
Nice, respectable place to meet girls.
You tell Marty, Aunt Theresa, you
tell him, "Go to the Stardust
Ballroom. It's loaded with tomatoes."
MRS. PILLETTI
(committing the line
to memory)
The Stardust Ballroom. It's loaded
with tomatoes.
THOMAS
Right.
VIRGINIA
This is very nice-a you, Aunt Theresa,
what you're doing for us, and don't
think we don't appreciate...
The SOUND of the DOOR BEING UNLATCHED in the kitchen can be
heard. Mrs. Pilletti promptly rises.
MRS. PILLETTI
He's here.
She hurries into...
THE KITCHEN.
Marty comes into the kitchen from the rear porch.
MARTY
Hello, Ma.
MRS. PILLETTI
(whispers)
Marty, Thomas and Virginia are here.
They had another fight with your
Aunt Catherine. So they ask me, would
it be all right if Catherine come to
live with us. So I said, all right
with me, but we have to ask you.
Marty, she's a lonely old lady. Nobody
wants her. Everybody's throwing her
outta their house...
MARTY
Sure, Ma, it's okay with me.
MRS. PILLETTI
You gotta good heart.
She turns and leads the way back into the dining room. Marty
follows.
DINING ROOM.
Thomas has risen. Mrs. Pilletti and Marty come in.
MRS. PILLETTI
He says okay, it's all right Catherine
comes here.
THOMAS
Oh, Marty, thanks a lot. That really
takes a load offa my mind.
MARTY
Oh, we got plenny-a room here.
MRS. PILLETTI
Sure! Sure! It's gonna be nice! It's
gonna be nice! I'll come over tonight
to your house, and I talk with
Catherine, and you see, everything
is gonna work out all right.
THOMAS
I just wanna thank you people again,
because the situation was just
becoming impossible.
MRS. PILLETTI
Siddown, Thomas, siddown.
She exits into the kitchen. Virginia follows her to the
kitchen door, where the two women ad-lib the following lines
over the ensuing scene between Marty and Thomas.
VIRGINIA
I'm sorry we gotta rush like this...
MRS. PILLETTI
That's all right, that's all right...
VIRGINIA
On accounta...
MRS. PILLETTI
I'm gonna see you tonight...
Over this, Thomas talks to Marty.
THOMAS
Marty, I don't know how to tell you
how much I appreciate what you and
your mother are doing, because the
kinda thing was happening in our
house was Virginia was in the kitchen
making some milk for the baby. So my
mother comes in...
VIRGINIA
Tommy, I promised the babysitter six
o'clock.
MARTY
Tommy, before you go, I wonder if
you gimme a little advice.
THOMAS
Sure, what?
MARTY
You're the accountant inna family,
and I figure you might know about
these things. My boss wantsa sell
his shop to me. His kids are all
married, you know, and he and his
wife live alone, and they wanna move
out to California where his daughter
lives, so he wantsa sell his shop.
He wants five thousand dollars down,
although I think I can knock him
downa four...
VIRGINIA
(off-screen, from
deep in the kitchen)
Tommy!
THOMAS
(rises)
I'll see you at mass tomorrow. We'll
sit down and we'll discuss the whole
thing.
MARTY
All right, I'll see you, Thomas,
because he wants an answer by Monday.
THOMAS
Sure. Thanks a lot about my mother.
We'll work out some arrangement,
because naturally I want to pay...
MARTY
Don't worry about it.
THOMAS
No, listen, that's my mother, I'm
gonna pay for her...
VIRGINIA
(off-screen)
Goodby, Marty!
MARTY
Goodby, Virginia! See you soon!
Thomas has moved off to join his wife in the kitchen where
we can hear them exchanging final protestations and goodbys
with Mrs. Pilletti. Marty sits at the table, hands folded in
front of him, stolid, pensive.
THE KITCHEN. DUSK.
Mrs. Pilletti bends over her steaming kettles. Through the
window we see evening is gathering.
MARTY'S BEDROOM.
It's a small room with bed, chest of drawers, religious
pictures, etc. Marty sits squatly on the edge of the bed,
absorbed in thought. He stands, moves out into...
THE GROUND FLOOR CORRIDOR.
...and down that into...
THE DINING ROOM.
...now lit by the overhead neo-Tiffany lampshade and the
beaded old-fashioned lamps. He crosses to the kitchen door,
looks in on his mother, cooking away, turns, crosses back
to...
THE LIVING ROOM.
He closes the sliding doors that separate the living and
dining rooms. He extracts a small black address book from
his hip pocket, flips through it, finds the page he wants,
studies it intently.
He sits on the chair by the phone, dials.
MARTY
(with a vague pretense
at good diction)
Hello, is this Mary Feeney?... Could
I speak to Miss Mary Feeney?... Just
tell her an old friend...
He waits again. With his free hand he wipes the gathering
sweat on his brow.
MARTY
...Oh, hello there, is this Mary
Feeney? Hello there, this is Marty
Pilletti. I wonder if you recall
me... Well, I'm kind of a stocky
guy. The last time we met was in a
movie, the RKO Chester. You was with
another girl, and I was with a friend
of mine named Angie. This was about
a month ago...
The girl apparently doesn't remember him. A sort of panic
begins to seize Marty. His voice rises a little.
MARTY
The RKO Chester in Westchester Square.
You was sitting in front of us, and
we was annoying you, and you got
mad, and... I'm the fellow who works
in a butcher shop... Come on, you
know who I am!... That's right, we
went to Howard Johnson's and we had
hamburgers. You hadda milkshake...
Yeah, that's right. I'm the stocky
one, the heavy-set feller... Well,
I'm glad you recall me, because I
hadda swell time that night, and I
was just wondering how everything
was with you. How's everything?...
That's swell... Yeah, well, I'll
tell you why I called...I was figuring
on taking in a movie tonight, and I
was wondering if you and your friend
would care to see a movie tonight
with me and my friend...
(his eyes are closed
now)
Yeah, tonight. I know it's pretty
late to call for a date, but I didn't
know myself, till... Yeah, I know,
well how about... Yeah, I know, well
maybe next Saturday night. You free
next Saturday night?... Well, how
about the Saturday after that?...
Yeah, I know... Yeah... Yeah... Oh,
I understand, I mean...
He hangs up, sits for a moment, then rises, opens the sliding
doors, enters...
THE DINING ROOM.
He sits at the heavy, wooden table with its white-on-white
table cloth.
THE KITCHEN.
Mrs. Pilletti ladles portions of food from the steaming
kettles onto a plate that she brings into...
THE DINING ROOM.
...and sets it down before her son. Without a word, he picks
up his fork and spoon and plunges into the mountain of
spaghetti, adds cheese, eats away. Mrs. Pilletti takes her
seat, folds her hands on the table, and sits watching Marty
eat.
MRS. PILLETTI
So what are you gonna do tonight,
Marty?
MARTY
I don't know, Ma. I'm all knocked
out. I may just hang arounna house.
Mrs. Pilletti nods a couple of times. A moment of silence.
MRS. PILLETTI
Why don't you go to the Stardust
Ballroom?
This gives Marty pause. He looks up.
MARTY
What?
MRS. PILLETTI
I say, why don't you go to the
Stardust Ballroom? It's loaded with
tomatoes.
Marty regards his mother for a moment.
MARTY
It's loaded with what?
MRS. PILLETTI
Tomatoes.
MARTY
Ha! Who told you about the Stardust
Ballroom?
MRS. PILLETTI
Thomas. He told me it was a very
nice place.
MARTY
Oh, Thomas. Ma, it's just a big dance
hall, and that's all it is. I been
there a hundred times. Loaded with
tomatoes. Boy, you're funny, Ma.
MRS. PILLETTI
Marty, I don't want you hang arounna
house tonight. I want you to go take
a shave and go out and dance.
MARTY
Ma, when are you gonna give up? You
gotta bachelor on your hands. I ain't
never gonna get married.
MRS. PILLETTI
You gonna get married.
MARTY
Sooner or later, there comes a point
in a man's life when he gotta face
some facts, and one fact I gotta
face is that whatever it is that
women like, I ain't got it. I chased
enough girls in my life. I went to
enough dances. I got hurt enough. I
don't wanna get hurt no more. I just
called a girl just now, and I got a
real brush-off, boy. I figured I was
past the point of being hurt, but
that hurt. Some stupid woman who I
didn't even wanna call up. She gave
me the brush. I don't wanna go to
the Stardust Ballroom because all
that ever happened to me there was
girls made me feel like I was a bug.
I got feelings, you know. I had enough
pain. No, thank you.
MRS. PILLETTI
Marty...
MARTY
Ma, I'm gonna stay home and watch
Jackie Gleason.
MRS. PILLETTI
You gonna die without a son.
MARTY
So I'll die without a son.
MRS. PILLETTI
Put on your blue suit...
MARTY
Blue suit, gray suit, I'm still a
fat man. A fat ugly man.
MRS. PILLETTI
You not ugly.
MARTY
(his voice rising)
I'm ugly... I'm ugly! I'm UGLY!
MRS. PILLETTI
Marty...
MARTY
Ma! Leave me alone!
He stands abruptly, his face pained and drawn. He makes half-
formed gestures to his mother, but he can't find words at
the moment. He turns and marches a few paces away, turns to
his mother again.
MARTY
Ma, waddaya want from me?! Waddaya
want from me?! I'm miserable enough
as it is! Leave me alone! I'll go to
the Stardust Ballroom! I'll put onna
blue suit and I'll go! And you know
what I'm gonna get for my trouble?
Heartache! A big night of heartache!
Sullenly, he marches back to his seat, sits down, picks up
his fork, plunges it into the spaghetti, stuffs a mouthful
into his mouth, and chews vigorously for a moment. It is
impossible for him to remain angry long. After a while, he
is shaking his head.
MARTY
Loaded with tomatoes...boy, that's
rich.
He plunges his fork in again, starts to eat. Mrs. Pilletti
watches Marty anxiously as we...
FADE OUT.
FADE IN
NEW YORK CITY, WEST FARMS SQUARE. NIGHT
West Farms Square is a big street in the Bronx, filled with
stores, bowling alleys and bars. Cars push along between the
pillars of the elevated subway structure. The NOISE of the
subway trains ROARS by overhead every few moments.
CAMERA FINDS and ESTABLISHES the Stardust Ballroom. It
occupies the second floor of a large, dirty gray three-story
building. It is a hot June night, and the windows are open
for ventilation purposes. MUSIC manufactured by Dave
Greenglass and His Band blends with the NOISES of the street.
STARDUST BALLROOM. ENTRANCE VESTIBULE/STAIRS.
MUSIC plays in the background. CAMERA views CLARA, a plain
girl in her late twenties; her younger sister, MILLIE,
prettier; Millie's fiance ANDY, 30; and a second young man
DR. KEEGAN, also 30, who is a resident at Fordham Hospital.
They are all huddled over a cigarette machine near the street
door.
ANDY
(in a low voice)
I told you she wasn't especially
attractive, but that she had a good
deal of charm, and she's really a
real nice girl...
DR. KEEGAN
(extracting cigarettes
from the machine)
She's all right, Andy. It's just
that I get one Saturday night off
every three weeks, and I was expecting
something better, that's all.
ANDY
I told you she wasn't attractive...
DR. KEEGAN
You told me that she was a little
tall, but that she wasn't bad looking
at all.
ANDY
Millie's been after me to fix her up
with a date, so I...
DR. KEEGAN
All right, I'm having a fair time.
It's just that I get one Saturday
night off in three weeks, and I wanted
to wind up with something tonight.
They join the two girls waiting for them and start up the
broad stairway to the second floor. They are halfway up,
when two GIRLS come in at the top of the stairs and start
down. Dr. Keegan, who is holding Clara's arm, looks up, nods.
STARDUST BALLROOM, ANTEROOM.
This is a small, carpeted lobby with TICKET TAKER in booth,
a cloak room and rest rooms. Painted posters on the walls
announce coming events and caution against smoking. There
are also large blow-ups of musicians who had played this
ballroom at one time and went on to bigger things. About six
or seven PEOPLE congregate in the lobby, engaged in various
indifferent activities.
CAMERA ANGLES include the swinging doors, as Clara, Andy,
Millie and Dr. Keegan come in. As they enter, the doors to
the ballroom proper are pushed out, and a GIRL in a black
dress, quite pretty, comes in. She starts across the anteroom
toward the cloak room, when Dr. Keegan calls out suddenly to
her.
DR. KEEGAN
Hey!
The girl turns. Recognition floods her face.
GIRL
Herbie! Wadda you doing here?!
DR. KEEGAN
I came up to dance, wadda you think?
You here with somebody?
GIRL
I'm just here with another girl.
DR. KEEGAN
Where you going now?
GIRL
I'm just gonna get my cigarettes. I
left them in my coat.
DR. KEEGAN
I'll see you around.
GIRL
I'll see you.
She turns and continues on to the cloak room. Dr. Keegan
turns to Clara.
DR. KEEGAN
That's a girl used to know.
BALLROOM, LOUNGE.
A fairly long room, lined on one side by a bar and on the
other by cheap leatherette booths. It is brightly lit and
crowded. There is a constant movement in and out of the
lounge. At the far end of the lounge, there are two large
iron fire doors open to allow the heat to flow out. Dance
MUSIC from dance floor.
Clara, Dr. Keegan, Millie and Andy come into the lounge and
form a little group in the midst of moving PASSERSBY around
them. A kind of strange excitement has begun to enter Dr.
Keegan. He stands with the others, but his attention is
devoted to ogling the passing GIRLS, occasionally looking
back to the doors leading to the anteroom.
ANDY
Boy, it's packed in here.
MILLIE
(to Clara)
Some of these kids are awful young.
Aren't you afraid you'll bump into
one of your students?
CLARA
(nervously looking at
Dr. Keegan)
I wouldn't think so. I teach out in
Brooklyn.
ANDY
You been up here before, Clara?
CLARA
Yeah, twice.
MILLIE
Shall we try to get a table and get
something to drink or shall we just
go in and start dancing?
ANDY
Hey, Herbie...
Dr. Keegan doesn't seem to hear.
ANDY
(continues)
Hey, Herbie...
DR. KEEGAN
What?
ANDY
You wanna have a drink before we
start dancing?
DR. KEEGAN
Listen. You people go grab a table.
I'll be back inna minute. I'll be
right back.
He turns and moves quickly through the crowded lounge, back
to the swinging doors leading into the anteroom. CAMERA STAYS
with Clara, Millie and Andy staring after him.
ANDY
So what do you say, Clara? Wanna see
if we can get a table?
CLARA
All right.
They turn and move toward the booths.
BALLROOM.
The dance floor is fairly dark. A romantic effect is achieved
by papier-mâché over the chandeliers. Around the walls are
the stag lines -- the MEN and waiting GIRLS. They stand singly
or in small uneasy groups. There is constant flux and
movement.
CAMERA DOLLIES slowly past the stag line, moving past faces,
short, fat, tall, thin stags. Some pretend indifference.
Some exhibit patent hunger.
CAMERA HOLDS ANGLING to include Marty, Angie near the end of
the stag line. They are freshly shaved and groomed.
MARTY AND ANGIE.
They are leaning against the wall smoking, watching their
more fortunate brethren on the floor in the background.
ANGIE
Not a bad crowd tonight, you know?
MARTY
There was one nice-looking one there
inna black dress and beads, but she's
dancing now.
ANGIE
(looking off-screen)
There's a nice-looking little short
one for you right now.
MARTY
(following his gaze)
Where?
ANGIE
Down there. That little one there.
REVERSE ANGLE PAST Marty and Angie across the dance floor
toward the wall opposite, where three GIRLS are standing.
Two are leaning against the wall. The third is facing them
with her back to the dance floor. This last girl is the one
Angie has in mind. She is a cute little kid about twenty and
wears a bright smile.
MARTY AND ANGIE.
They stare off toward the three girls across the room.
MARTY
Yeah, she looks all right from here.
ANGIE
Well, waddaya say, you wanna ask
them? I'll take the one inna green
dress.
MARTY
I think this number is a little fast.
Wait a minute.
He tries a few tentative steps, testing for tempo.
MARTY
It's all right, I think. They still
there?
The two cavaliers turn their heads and look off-screen in
the direction of the three girls. Apparently, the girls are
still there. Marty and Angie relinquish their lounging
positions against the wall and slouch along past the line of
stags with a show of determined unconcern. They edge through
the crush of people on the non-dancing margin of the dance
floor and slowly push their way toward the...
THREE GIRLS.
Marty and Angie come in and start to approach the three girls.
The girls, aware of the boys' presence, stiffen and their
chatter comes to a halt. Angie advances to one of the girls.
ANGIE
Waddaya say, you wanna dance?
The girl looks surprised, as if this were an extraordinary
invitation to receive in a dance hall, looks confounded at
her two friends, shrugs, detaches herself from the wall,
moves to the outer fringe of the pack of dancers, raises her
hand languidly to dancing position and awaits Angie with
ineffable boredom. Marty, smiling tentatively, addresses the
SHORT GIRL.
MARTY
Excuse me, would you care for this
dance?
The Short Girl gives Marty a quick glance of appraisal, then
looks quickly at her remaining friend.
SHORT GIRL
(but not unpleasantly)
I don't feel like dancing just yet.
MARTY
Sure.
He turns and heads sluggishly in the direction of the stag
line.
THE STAG LINE.
A TRAVEL SHOT follows Marty, as he moves past the line of
stags, all of whom are watching him. CAMERA HOLDS as he finds
his old niche by the wall, leans there. A moment later, he
glances guardedly down to where the short girl and her friend
are.
MARTY'S P.O.V.: The Short Girl is approached by a dapper
young BOY who asks her to dance. She smiles, excuses herself
to her friend and follows the boy out onto the dance floor.
Marty stares at the Short Girl. He shrugs, he's used to this
kind of thing, then turns his attention bleakly back to
watching...
THE DANCE FLOOR.
The band starts up again and the MUSIC blares. It's a Lindy
Hop number. Couples swirl past; the MUSIC comes up BIG.
THE BALLROOM.
Marty leans against the wall, smoking and watching the dancers
swirl past. Dr. Keegan's VOICE is heard.
DR. KEEGAN
(off-screen)
You here stag or with a girl?
Marty's attention is on the passing couples, so he doesn't
seem to hear. ANGLE WIDENS to include the Doctor standing on
Marty's right. Suddenly aware of the Doctor, Marty turns his
head.
MARTY
You say something?
DR. KEEGAN
Yeah. I was just asking you if you
was here stag or with a girl.
MARTY
I'm stag.
DR. KEEGAN
Well, I'll tell you. I got stuck on
a blind date with a dog, and I just
met an old girl I used to know, and
I was wondering how I'm gonna get
rid of the girl I'm with. Somebody
to take her home, you know what I
mean? I'd be glad to pay you five
bucks if you take her home for me.
MARTY
(confused)
What?
DR. KEEGAN
I'll take you over, and I'll introduce
you as an old army buddy of mine,
and then I'll cut out. Because I got
this other girl waiting for me out
by the hatcheck, and I'll pay you
five bucks.
MARTY
(stares at the man)
Are you kidding?
DR. KEEGAN
No, I'm not kidding.
MARTY
You can't just walk off onna girl
like that.
Dr. Keegan shrugs, moves down the line of stag guys. Marty
turns to watch him, still a little shocked at the proposition.
The Doctor approaches THREE STAGS and obviously broaches the
subject with one of them. This STAG seems more receptive to
the idea. Dr. Keegan takes out a wallet and gives the Stag a
five dollar bill. The Stag detaches himself from the wall
and, a little ill-at-ease, follows the Doctor.
Marty stands against the wall, watching the Doctor and the
Stag, who come in and move past him. Concerned and curious,
Marty stares after them, then moves out of his leaning
position, following in their general direction.
Marty moves through the crush of young men and women in the
area around the dance floor.
ALCOVE NEAR ARCHWAY.
As Marty reaches the alcove that separates the dance floor
proper from the lounge, he pauses and looks off toward the
booths.
LOUNGE.
Clara sits about halfway down the length of the booths. Dr.
Keegan and the Stag stand over her, talking to her. She is
looking up at them, her hands nervously gripping a Coca Cola
glass. Dr. Keegan is obviously introducing the Stag to Clara
and is going through some story about being called away on
an emergency. The Stag is presented as her escort-to-be, who
will see to it that she gets home safely.
Clara is not taken in by any of this, although she is trying
hard not to seem affected. She politely rejects the Stag's
company and will go home by herself, thanks for asking anyway.
Dr. Keegan makes a few mild protestations, and then he and
the Stag leave the booth and start back toward the archway.
ARCHWAY.
From where Marty stands, he can watch Clara, as well as Dr.
Keegan and the Stag. The Doctor and the Stag start past Marty,
and he catches their conversation.
DR. KEEGAN
...in that case, as long as she's
going home alone, give me the five
bucks back...
STAG
Look, Mac, you paid me the five bucks.
I was willing. It's my five bucks...
They move past and away and Marty stares after them before
he turns his attention toward Clara off-screen.
Clara is sitting as she was, gripping and ungripping the
glass of Coca Cola in front of her. Her eyes are closed.
Then, with a little nervous shake of her head she gets out
of the booth and stands momentarily at a loss for what next
to do. As she glances around, CAMERA ANGLES to include a
sign over an exit that reads "Fire Escape." Clara starts
moving toward that door.
Marty is staring off-screen toward Clara. He slowly works
his way down the length of the lounge in the general direction
of the fire escape.
LOUNGE.
Near the entrance to the fire escape, Clara comes into view.
Background sounds continue steadily.
Marty is walking the length of the lounge and suddenly stops
and stares off-screen.
Clara disappears through the exit onto the fire escape
outside.
Marty watches. Then he continues on, crossing the threshold
of the...
FIRE ESCAPE.
It is sizeable, almost a small balcony. It looks out onto
the backs of innumerable five-story apartment houses. Clara
is standing by the railing, her back toward the camera, her
head sunk down. She is crying. Marty watches her for a moment
before moving a step or two forward.
Clara doesn't turn. Marty tries to think of something to
say.
MARTY
(finally)
Excuse me, Miss, would you care to
dance?
Clara slowly turns to Marty, her face streaked with tears,
her lips trembling. Then, in one of those moments of
simultaneous impulse, she lurches to Marty with a sob, and
Marty takes her to him.
They stand in an awkward embrace, Marty a little embarrassed,
looking back through the fire escape doors to the lounge,
wondering if anybody is seeing them. He reaches back with
one hand, and contrives, with some effort, to push one of
the heavy iron doors shut. He returns his hand around the
girl's shoulders. He stands stiffly, allowing her to cry on
his chest, as we...
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
BRONX APARTMENT HOUSE, STAIRWAY. NIGHT
Mrs. Pilletti, in her hat and coat and carrying a purse, is
making her heavy way up the last few steps toward the landing.
She pauses to catch her breath on the landing. Then she moves
down the hallway to...
ENTRANCE TO APARTMENT 4-B.
Mrs. Pilletti rings the bell. The SOUND can be heard as she
waits. The door is opened by Virginia.
VIRGINIA
Hello, Aunt Theresa. Come in.
Mrs. Pilletti enters the apartment.
APARTMENT.
Virginia closes the door after Mrs. Pilletti enters, and
they stand in a small narrow hallway, brightly lit. At the
far end to the right is the living room in the background.
MRS. PILLETTI
(in a low voice as
she pulls off her
coat)
Is Catherine here?
Virginia helps her with her coat.
VIRGINIA
(nods, keeping her
voice low)
We didn't tell her anything yet. We
thought that we'd leave it to you.
We thought you'd put it like how you
were lonely, and why don't she come
to live with you. Because that way
it looks like she's doing you a favor,
insteada we're throwing her out, and
it won't be so cruel on her. Do you
want Tommy and me to stay here with
you?
MRS. PILLETTI
I think it be a better idea if you
and Thomas go out, because otherwise
she's gonna start a fight with you,
and everybody's gonna be yelling.
Thomas appears at the living room end of the foyer with an
anxious smile on his face.
THOMAS
Hello, Aunt Theresa.
MRS. PILLETTI
Hello, Thomas.
THOMAS
I just this minute got the baby to
sleep.
He comes down to Mrs. Pilletti and Virginia, lowers his voice
to a conspiratorial whisper.
THOMAS
Aunt Theresa, we figure the best way
to ask her is you say that you're
very lonely, see? And wouldn't she
come and keep you company, because
that way, you see...
MRS. PILLETTI
Don't worry. I'm gonna take care-a
the whole thing.
A shrill, imperious woman's voice breaks into the whispered
conference in the hallway.
CATHERINE'S VOICE
(off-screen)
Who's there?! Who's there?!
Mrs. Pilletti heads up the foyer to the living room, followed
by Virginia and Thomas.
MRS. PILLETTI
(calling back)
It's me, Catherine! How you feel?
CATHERINE comes in at the end of the foyer. She is a gaunt
woman with a face carved out of granite. She is tough,
embittered, with a history of pain and mirthless hard work
ingrained into her features.
CATHERINE
Hey! What are you doing here?
MRS. PILLETTI
I came to see you. How you feel?
The two sisters quickly embrace and release each other.
CATHERINE
I gotta pain in my left side, and my
leg throbs like a drum.
MRS. PILLETTI
I been getting a pain in my shoulder.
CATHERINE
I gotta pains in my shoulder too. I
have a pain in my hip, and my right
arm aches so much I can't sleep.
It's a curse to be old. How you feel?
MRS. PILLETTI
I feel fine.
CATHERINE
That's nice.
Now that the standard greetings are over, Aunt Catherine
abruptly turns and goes back into the living room. Mrs.
Pilletti follows. Virginia and Thomas remain in the doorway.
LIVING ROOM.
Catherine and Mrs. Pilletti enter and Catherine heads straight
to a chair -- obviously her chair. It is an old heavy oaken
chair with thick armrests. The rest of the apartment is
furnished in what is known as "modern." A piece from House
Beautiful here, a piece from American Homes and Gardens there.
Aunt Catherine sits erect and forbidding in her chair. Mrs.
Pilletti seats herself with a sigh in a neighboring chair.
Thomas and Virginia remain off-screen in the hallway for a
moment to hang up Mrs. Pilletti's coat. The two old sisters
sit for a moment.
MRS. PILLETTI
Well, how's everything with you?
Aunt Catherine grimaces to describe how everything is with
her.
MRS. PILLETTI
My son Marty's fine. Everybody's
fine...
Thomas comes in from the hallway, stands in the back of the
room, somewhat apprehensively.
MRS. PILLETTI
We gotta postcard from my son Nickie
and his bride. They're inna big hotel
in Florida on their honeymoon.
Everything is very nice.
CATHERINE
That's nice. I gotta letter from my
husband's cousin in Abruzzi. His
mother died.
MRS. PILLETTI
Oh.
CATHERINE
Do you remember Emilio DiGiorgio,
owned the tavern in Abruzzi?
MRS. PILLETTI
I don't think I remember him.
CATHERINE
Well, he died. You know who else
died?
MRS. PILLETTI
Who?
CATHERINE
You know the old man upstairs in
this house. Old Irishman, always
drunk. He got pleurisy. He was inna
hospital two weeks. He died yesterday.
MRS. PILLETTI
Well, I always like to visit you,
Catherine, because you always got
such cheerful news.
Virginia comes into the living room with Thomas. They remain
in the background.
THOMAS
(suddenly)
Ma, you want something to eat, some
tuna fish?
MRS. PILLETTI
Hey, why don't you go to the movie?
Your mother and me, we're gonna be
baby-sitter.
Thomas looks indecisively at his wife.
VIRGINIA
Listen, let's go downa Kaplans'
apartment. They told us to come down.
MRS. PILLETTI
Sure, sure.
Thomas ponders a moment.
THOMAS
All right, Ma, we're going downstairs
to the Kaplans, if you want us for
anything.
They exit. The two old sisters sit rigidly until they hear
the SOUND of the door closing. Catherine cocks an eyebrow
and promptly launches into her statement.
CATHERINE
I wake up this morning, I hear the
baby crying. So I wake up. I come in
their room. That girl is shaking her
hand atta baby. I said, "You brute!
Don't you strike that baby! That's
my son's baby!"
MRS. PILLETTI
It's her baby too, you know.
CATHERINE
That's my son Thomas's baby.
MRS. PILLETTI
Well, it ain't your baby.
CATHERINE
Did I tell you she threw the bottle-
a milk at me?
MRS. PILLETTI
You told me.
CATHERINE
She's a witch, that one. I tell you
what happen yesterday?
MRS. PILLETTI
What happen?
CATHERINE
She gave me the evil eye.
She demonstrates this by pulling the lower lid of one eye
down and staring grotesquely at the ceiling.
MRS. PILLETTI
(scoffing)
Ufa!
CATHERINE
I keep one eye open when I sleep,
because she's gonna come in, stab me
in my bed.
MRS. PILLETTI
Catherine, I want you come live in
my house with Marty and me.
Her sister turns, genuinely surprised at this request.
CATHERINE
Ah?
MRS. PILLETTI
You son Thomas and Virginia, they
come to my house this afternoon...
CATHERINE
(sharply)
Who?
MRS. PILLETTI
Your son Thomas and his wife
Virginia...
CATHERINE
When was this?
MRS. PILLETTI
This afternoon, about four, five
o'clock.
CATHERINE
What they say?
MRS. PILLETTI
You know what they say. They say
things are no good in this house.
Catherine, your son is married. Leave
him in peace. He wantsa be alone
with his wife. They don't want no
old lady sitting inna balcony. Now I
tell you what I think. I want you
come live with me in my house with
Marty and me. In my house, you have
your own room. You don't have to
sleep onna couch inna living room
like here. We will cook inna kitchen
and talk like when we were girls.
You are dear to me, and you are dear
to Marty. We are pleased for you to
come.
Catherine surveys her sister coldly.
CATHERINE
My son Thomas came to see you this
afternoon, and he said to you he
wants to cast his mother from his
house?
MRS. PILLETTI
Catherine, don't make an opera outta
this. The three-a you anna baby live
in three skinny rooms. You are an
old goat, and she has an Italian
temper. She is a good girl, but you
drive her crazy. Catherine, you are
no fool. You know this is no good,
an old woman living with a husband
and wife. Two women inna same kitchen,
anna house burns down.
Catherine stands abruptly. She is deeply hurt.
CATHERINE
So I am an old garbage bag, put inna
street.
MRS. PILLETTI
Oh, Catherine, please! Don't make a
tragedy. You come to my house where
you know you be happier yourself.
CATHERINE
It pains that they should do this.
MRS. PILLETTI
I know it pains.
Catherine turns and meanders a few steps. The stiff edge of
mordant humor that has been her one defense against life has
deserted her, and she is just a hurt old lady now.
CATHERINE
These are the worst years, I tell
you.
She seats herself on an Eames chair. On her right, a Modern-
Age lamp towers slimly. On her left is a Modern-Age endtable
with a Modern-Age ashtray on it. The hardened muscles in her
face suddenly slacken.
MRS. PILLETTI
(with deep compassion)
Catherine, you are very dear to me.
We have cried many times together.
When my husband died, I would have
gone insane if it were not for you.
I ask you to come to my house, because
I can make you happy. Please come to
my house.
CATHERINE
These are the worst years. I tell
you. It's gonna happen to you. I'm
afraida look inna mirror. I'm afraid
I'm gonna see an old lady with white
hair, like the old ladies inna park,
little bundles inna black shawl,
waiting for the coffin. I'm fifty-
six years old. What am I to do with
myself? I have strength in my hands.
I wanna cook. I wanna clean. I wanna
make dinner for my children. Am I an
old dog to lie in fronta the fire
til my eyes close? These are the
terrible years, Theresa! Terrible
years!
MRS. PILLETTI
Catherine, my sister...
Catherine stares distraught at Mrs. Pilletti.
CATHERINE
It's gonna happen to you! It's gonna
happen to you! What will you do if
Marty gets married?! What will you
cook? What happen to alla children
playing in alla rooms? Where is the
noise?! It is a curse to be a widow!
A curse. What will you do if Marty
gets married?! What will you do?
She stares at Mrs. Pilletti, her deep eyes haggard and pained.
Mrs. Pilletti stares back for a moment, then her own eyes
close. Catherine has hit home. Catherine sinks back onto her
chair, sitting stiffly, her arms on the thick armrests. Mrs.
Pilletti sits hunched a little forward, her hands folded
nervously in her lap.
CATHERINE
(continuing quietly)
I will put my clothes inna bag, and
I will come to you tomorrow.
The two sisters, somber and silent, continue to just stare
at one another.
THE STARDUST BALLROOM. NIGHT
CAMERA PANS the crowd, picking up Marty and Clara dancing
cheek-to-cheek on the crowded, darkened dance floor. The
MUSIC rides over the top of the scene.
MARTY
You come up here often?
CLARA
I was up here twice before. Once
with a friend of mine and once I
came up alone. The last time... do
you see that girl in the gray dress
sitting over there?
MARTY
Yeah.
CLARA
Well, the last time I was up here,
that's where I sat. I sat there for
an hour and a half, without moving a
muscle. Now and then, some fellow
would sort of walk up to me and then
change his mind. I'll never forget
just sitting there for an hour and a
half with my hands in my lap. Then I
began to cry, and I had to get up
and go home.
MARTY
I cry a lot too. I'm a big cryer.
CLARA
This is something recent with me,
this bursting into tears at the least
thing.
MARTY
Oh, I cry all the time, any little
thing. My brothers, my brother-in-
laws, they're always telling me what
a goodhearted guy I am. Well, you
don't get goodhearted by accident.
You get kicked around long enough,
you get to be a real professor of
pain. I know exactly how you feel.
And I also want you to know I'm having
a very good time with you now and
really enjoying myself. So you see,
you're not such a dog as you think
you are.
CLARA
I'm having a very good time, too.
MARTY
So there you are. So I guess I'm not
such a dog as I think I am.
CLARA
You're a very nice guy, and I don't
know why some girl hasn't grabbed
you off long ago.
MARTY
I don't know either. I think I'm a
very nice guy. I also think I'm a
pretty smart guy in my own way.
Clara smiles briefly at this.
MARTY
Now I figure, two people get married,
and they gonna live together forty,
fifty years. So it's just gotta be
more than whether they're good looking
or not. You tell me you think you're
not very good-looking. My father was
a really ugly man, but my mother
adored him. She told me that she
used to get so miserable sometimes,
like everybody, you know? And she
says my father always tried to
understand. I used to see them
sometimes when I was a kid, sitting
in the living room, talking and
talking, and I used to adore my old
man, because he was so kind. That's
one of the most beautiful things I
have in my life, the way my father
and mother were. And my father was a
real ugly man. So it doesn't matter
if you look like a gorilla. So you
see, dogs like us, we ain't such
dogs as we think we are.
They dance silently for a moment, cheeks pressed against
each other.
CLARA
I'm twenty-nine years old. How old
are you?
MARTY
I'm thirty-four.
BALLROOM, STAIRWAY.
Marty and Clara are about halfway down the steps leading to
the street entrance to the ballroom. Clara has on a light
summer coat. Marty is about two steps ahead of her and has
to keep turning his head to talk to her. He is in an elevated
mood, intoxicated -- on a talking jag.
MARTY
...you teach chemistry? That's funny.
Where? What school?
CLARA
Benjamin Franklin High School.
MARTY
Benjamin Franklin, where's that?
Brooklyn? I went to Theodore Roosevelt
right up here on Fordham Road. It's
right arounna corner from my house.
I have a cousin who's a teacher. He
teaches Latin. He lives in Chicago.
He was studying to be a Jesuit, but
he gave it up after his first vows.
He has reached the street landing and waits for Clara to
catch up with him. They stand in front of the glass doors
leading to the street.
BALLROOM VESTIBULE. GLASS DOORS.
MARTY
(prattling on)
I was pretty good in high school. I
sound like a jerk now, but I was
pretty good. I graduated with an
eighty-two average. That ain't bad.
I was accepted at City College. I
filled out the application and
everything, but my old man died, so
I hadda go to work. My best class
was German. That was my first
language. Der, die, das -- des, der,
des. There you are, I still
remember...
He pushes the glass door open to...
THE STREET OUTSIDE THE STARDUST BALLROOM.
As Marty and Clara emerge onto the sidewalk of West Farms
Square, they pause again.
It is about nine o'clock, and the busy street is brightly
lit from the stores.
PASSERSBY hurry on their way. The elevated subway RUMBLES
over-head intermittently.
MARTY
(chattering on)
You know what I was good at in high
school? I was good in Math. You know
how long ago I graduated high school?
June, nineteen-thirty-seven. Holy
cow! June, nineteen-thirty-seven!
What is that? Fifteen, seventeen
years ago! Holy cow! Seventeen years
ago! Is that right? Seventeen, that's
right. Where did it all go? I'm
getting old. I'm gonna be thirty-
five November eighth. Thirty-five.
Wow. Time goes on, boy.
He takes her arm, and they start walking.
MARTY
Nineteen-thirty-seven... that's right.
My old man died December, nineteen-
thirty-seven.
SIDEWALK.
MOVING SHOT as they stroll toward the corner of Jerome and
Burnside Avenues.
MARTY
Two o'clock in the morning he died.
The doorbell rings, and I knew
something was wrong right away.
Because my room is onna ground floor
inna front, you see, and I got outta
bed, and I answered the door...
CAMERA HOLDS as Marty, caught in his story, stops and
continues intently.
MARTY
There was Mr. Stern. He had a house
down about a block from us. He moved
out though. My old man, he used to
play cards with him and some other
old guys. He's a Jewish feller. So
he said, "Is your mother home?" So I
knew right away there was something
wrong. I was only eighteen, exactly
eighteen years old, just the month
before. So I said, "Is something
wrong, Mr. Stern?" I was in my
pajamas, you know? So he said, "Marty,
your father died." My father died
right inna middle of playing cards,
right at the table. He had a heart
attack. He had low blood pressure,
my old man. He used to faint a lot.
Suddenly he looks at Clara, rather startled.
MARTY
Boy, am I talking, I never talked so
much in my life. Usually, everybody
comes to me and tells me all their
troubles. Well, I'm gonna shut up
now, and I'm gonna let you get a
word in...
He takes her arm again, and they continue strolling toward
the corner intersection in silence.
MARTY
Seventeen years ago. What I been
doing with myself all that time?...
Well, I'm talking again. I must be
driving you crazy. Mosta the time
I'm with a girl, I can't find a word
to say. Well, I'm gonna shut up now.
Because I'm not like this usually.
Usually, I... well, here I go again.
They reach the corner intersection. CAMERA HOLDS on Marty as
he pauses again. He stares at Clara, confused at his strange
loquacity.
MARTY
I can't shut my mouth... I'm on a
jag, for Pete's sake. You'd think I
was loaded...
Marty stares at Clara, absolutely aghast at his inability to
stop talking.
MARTY
I can't stop talking! Isn't this
stupid?!
He stands there in the middle of the sidewalk with PEOPLE
moving past, back and forth. Marty continues to stare at
Clara, his broad face widened by a foolish, confused smile.
Clara regards him affectionately.
MARTY
(with sudden sincerity)
You gotta real nice face, you know?
It's really a nice face.
CLARA
Thank you.
They stroll along farther up the noisy, jangled, trafficked
Saturday night avenue.
GRAND CONCOURSE LUNCHEONETTE. NIGHT.
Once a candy store, now a soda fountain where booths have
been installed in the rear. One wall of the luncheonette in
front is covered with magazines from floor to ceiling. It is
a nice clean joint, brightly lit. Several CUSTOMERS are
occupying three of the four booths.
BOOTH.
They sit opposite each other in the booth. Each has a cup of
coffee. Marty is still talking, but now he is apparently
telling a story so funny that he can hardly get the words
out. The hilarity has communicated itself to Clara. Her eyes
are burning with suppressed laughter. Every now and then she
has to gasp to control the bubbly giggling inside of her.
MARTY
...so I'm inna kneeling position,
and if you ever try shooting a BAR
inna kneeling position, you know
what I mean. I can't holda steady
position. I'm wavering back and
forth...
He has to interrupt the narrative to control a seizure of
giggles. Clara wipes her eyes and catches her breath.
MARTY
...so the guy next to me, he's
shooting from the prone position,
and he's cross-eyed like I told you...
He can't go on. He has to stop and cover his face with one
hand.
MARTY
So just then...
(stops to control
himself again)
...so just then I hear five shots go
off from the guy next to me...
It's too much for him. He lets out a sudden guffaw and
instantly smothers it under shaking shoulders. Clara hides
her face in her hands and giggles desperately. Some of the
other people turn to look at them.
MARTY
So my target goes down, and a minute
later, the flag comes up. I got five
bulls-eyes. This cross-eyed guy next
to me, he shot five bulls-eyes into
my target...
He stares at the girl, spent from laughter.
MARTY
...so I said to the sergeant who was
checking my score, "Pretty good, eh,
Sarge? Five bulls-eyes? So this
sergeant, he don't know what happened,
he says, "Say, that's all right,
Pilletti"...
He closes his eyes, shakes his head.
MARTY
Oh, man. So that's what happened.
That's how I got the reputation-a
being the best shot inna whole
battalion... oh, man...
For a moment they seem to have controlled their laughter.
They sit, shaking their heads, studying their fingers on the
table in front of them. Then slowly, Marty begins to giggle
again. It communicates itself to Clara. In a moment they are
hiding their faces in their hands, their shoulders shivering
with laughter.
STARDUST BALLROOM.
CLOSE ON Angie. His eyes look slowly in every direction.
CAMERA PULLS BACK disclosing Angie standing on the fringe of
the dance floor, head arched high, looking at the crowded
dance floor. He starts back to the archway toward the lounge,
looking over his shoulder.
ARCHWAY.
Angie comes into the archway, throws one more glance over
his shoulder at the dance floor, then turns and enters the...
LOUNGE.
Angie walks down the length of the lounge, looking into the
booths and simultaneously at the PEOPLE moving back and forth
in the lounge. At the far end of the lounge, he turns and
comes back along the bar side, checking each face at the
bar.
ANTEROOM.
There are three young BUCKOES laying out their money for
admission. One of them calls to Angie.
BUCKO
Anything good in there, Mac?
ANGIE
A buncha dogs.
He crosses to the Men's Room.
MEN'S ROOM.
Angie comes into a momentarily empty room. Angie goes the
full length of the white tiled room, past the wash bowls,
the long mirror, bending to look under the doors of the
stalls. Suddenly he calls out.
ANGIE
Hey, Marty! Hey, Marty, you in here?!
He waits for an answer...
GRAND CONCOURSE LUNCHEONETTE.
CLOSE ON Marty and Clara still in the booth, but two more
cups of coffee have been set down in front of each of them.
There are also two pie-plates. Clara has left half of her
pie. Also an empty pack of cigarettes, and another pack half-
gone. They are both smoking. Marty is still talking, but the
mood is no longer laughter. A pensive, speculative hush has
fallen over them. They have been talking for hours, and they
have reached the stage where you start tearing designs in
the paper napkins.
MARTY
...When I got outta the army, Clara,
I was lost. I didn't know what I
wanted to do. I was twenny-five years
old, what was I gonna do, go back to
my old job, forty cents an hour. I
thought maybe I go to college under
the G.I. Biller Rights, you know?
But I wouldn't graduate till I was
twenny-eight, twenny-nine years old,
even if I made it in three years.
And my brother Freddie wanted to get
married, and I had three unmarried
sisters -- in an Italian home, that's
a terrible thing. And my kid brother
Nickie, he's a one got married last
week. So I just went to pieces. I
used to walk inna streets till three,
four o'clock inna mornings. My mother
used to be so worried about me. My
uncle Mario come over one time. He
offered me a job driving his hack
onna night shift. He got his own
cab, you know. And God forgive me
for what I'm gonna say now, but I
used to thinka doing away with myself.
I used to stand sometimes in the
subway, and God forgive me what I'm
going to say, I used to feel the
tracks sucking me down under the
wheels.
CLARA
(deeply sympathetic)
Yes, I know.
MARTY
I'm a Catholic, you know, and even
to think about suicide is a terrible
sin.
CLARA
Yes, I know.
MARTY
So then Mr. Gazzara -- he was a
frienda my father -- he offered me
this job in his butcher shop, and
everybody pleaded with me to take
it. So that's what happened. I didn't
wanna be a butcher.
CLARA
There's nothing wrong with being a
butcher.
MARTY
Well, I wouldn't call it an elegant
profession. It's in a lower social
scale. People look down on butchers.
CLARA
I don't.
Marty looks quickly up at her, then back down.
MARTY
Well, the point is Mr. Gazzara wantsa
sell his shop now, because he and
his wife are lonely, and they wanna
move out to California in Los Angeles
and live near their married daughter.
Because she's always writing them to
come out there. So it's a nice little
shop. I handle his books for him, so
I know he has a thirty-five percent
markup which is not unreasonable,
and he takes home net maybe a hundred,
hundred and fifty bucks a week. The
point is, of course, you gotta worry
about the supermarkets. There's two
inna neighborhood now, and there's
an A&P coming in, at least that's
the rumor. Of course, mosta his trade
is strictly Italian, but the younger
Italian girls, they get married, and
they don't stick to the old Italian
dishes so much. I mean, you gotta
take that into account too.
CLARA
It's my feeling that you really want
to buy this shop, Marty.
MARTY
That's true. I do. But I'm gonna
have to take outta loan inna bank
eight thousand dollars. That's a big
note to carry, because I have to
give Mr. Gazzara a mortgage, and
what I have to weigh is: will it pay
off in the end more than I can make
onna salary?
Clara looks down at her fingers, her face alive and sensitive.
She carefully assembles her words in her mind. Then she looks
at the squat butcher across the table from her.
CLARA
Marty, I know you for three hours,
but I know you're a good butcher.
You're an intelligent, sensitive,
decent man. I have a feeling about
you like sometimes a kid comes in to
see me for one reason or another.
And some of these kids, Marty, in my
classes, they have so much warmth in
them, so much capacity. And that's
the feeling I get about you.
Marty shuts his eyes, then opens them quickly, bows his head.
CLARA
If you were one of my students, I
would say, "Go ahead and buy the
butcher shop. You're a good butcher."
Clara pauses.
MARTY
(not quite trusting
the timbre of his
voice)
Well, there's a lotta things I could
do with this shop. I could organize
my own supermarket. Get a buncha
neighborhood merchants together.
That's what a lotta them are doing.
He looks up at her now.
MARTY
Wadda you think?
CLARA
I think anything you want to do,
you'll do well.
Tears begin to flood his eyes again. He quickly looks away.
He licks his lips.
MARTY
(still looking down)
I'm Catholic. Are you Catholic?
Clara looks down at her hands.
CLARA
(also in a low voice)
Yes, I am.
Marty looks up at her.
MARTY
I only got about three bucks on me
now, but I just live about eight
blocks from here on the other side
of Webster Avenue. Why don't we walk
back to my house? I'll run in, pick
up some dough, and let's step out
somewhere.
CLARA
I really should get home...
She twists in her seat and looks toward the back of the
luncheonette.
MARTY
It's only a quarter of twelve. The
clock's right over there.
CLARA
I really should get home, I told my
father... Well, I suppose a little
while longer. I wonder if there's
any place around here I could put
some makeup on...
Marty considers this problem for a second, then leans out of
the booth and calls out.
MARTY
Hey, Mac!
CAMERA ANGLES to include the PROPRIETOR of the luncheonette.
He is sitting in one of the booths ahead reading the Sunday
Mirror. He looks up toward Marty.
MARTY
You gotta Ladies' Room around here?
PROPRIETOR
Inna back.
MARTY
(to Clara)
Inna back.
Clara smiles at this innocent gaucherie, then edges out of
the booth, taking her purse with her.
187TH STREET. NIGHT.
HIGH ANGLE SHOT of Angie meandering down the street on which
the neighborhood bar is located. It is near midnight, and
the street is empty except for Angie and the CLACKING of his
leather heels on the pavement. He comes to the bar, opens
the door, enters...
THE BAR. NIGHT.
The SOUNDS of Saturday night revelry are loud, coming mostly
from the Irish contingent of the neighborhood. They are
grouped along practically the whole bar. Three or four WOMEN
and a number of shirtsleeved MEN, mostly in their late
forties, early fifties. We know they're Irish, because one
of the younger men is chanting an auld country ballad.
CAMERA ANGLES disclose the entrance to the bar in the
background, showing Angie coming in, looking here and there.
He starts toward the bar.
NEAR BAR.
TWO IRISH WOMEN, middle-aged, squat heavily on bar stools
over their schooners of beer, gassing away at each other.
FIRST IRISH WOMAN
...so she told me that the doctor
told her that if she had any more
babies, she would do so at the risk
of her life...
Angie shuffles in, pausing near the bar and standing behind
the two Irish women.
SECOND IRISH WOMAN
She was always a bit thin in the
hips...
FIRST IRISH WOMAN
Well, at the time she told me this,
she already had six. Every time I
saw the woman, she was either...
ANGIE
Hey, Lou!
FIRST IRISH WOMAN
...going to the hospital or coming
from it. She was hatching them out
like eggs.
SECOND IRISH WOMAN
And that husband of hers is a skinny
bit of a fellow, isn't he?
FIRST IRISH WOMAN
Well, I bumped into her on the street,
and she was as big as a barrel.
ANGIE
(loudly)
Hey, Lou!
CAMERA ANGLES to include Lou, the Bartender.
BARTENDER
(looking up from
opening a batch of
beer bottles)
What?
FIRST IRISH WOMAN
...so I said to her, "Mary...
ANGIE
(calling to the
Bartender)
Marty been in here the last coupla
hours or so?
FIRST IRISH WOMAN
"...Mary, for heaven's sakes, didn't
you tell me that another one'll kill
you?"
BARTENDER
I ain't seen Marty all night...
SECOND IRISH WOMAN
And her husband is a little bit of a
man, isn't he?
ANGIE
(calling to the
Bartender, but even
more to himself)
Where is everybody? I been walking
around, I can't find anybody...
FIRST IRISH WOMAN
Well, last week Tuesday, she gave
birth to the baby in Saint Elizabeth's
hospital... a big healthy boy of
nine pounds...
SECOND IRISH WOMAN
Oh, that's nice. So the doctor was
wrong, wasn't he?
FIRST IRISH WOMAN
Oh, no! She died right in the
hospital...
SECOND IRISH WOMAN
Oh, that's a sad story. And her
husband is that little fellow, works
in Peter Reeves.
FIRST IRISH WOMAN
That's the one.
SECOND IRISH WOMAN
Oh, that's a sad story.
Angie has nothing better to do than give his attention to
the last lines of the story. Perturbed, he turns and leaves.
NEAR ELEVATED SUBWAY. NIGHT.
With street NOISES over the scene, Marty and Clara walk along
through the intricate understructure of the elevated subway
toward Webster Avenue.
STREET.
Marty and Clara walk slowly along a side street in Marty's
neighborhood. The streets are almost empty; perhaps an
occasional PEDESTRIAN on the other side of the street. The
cars are parked bumper-to-bumper in lines along the curb.
The five-story apartment buildings are mostly dark, an
occasional window lit.
Marty suddenly stops and bends down; his shoe lace has become
untied. Clara sits back against the fender of the nearest
car and continues talking.
CLARA
...It's really a fine opportunity
for me. But I'm not sure I want to
be a department head. It's mostly
executive and administrative work.
Well, anyway, I told you about my
father, and he depends on me a great
deal, and...
MARTY
(still concentrating
on his shoelace)
Why don't you just move out to
Portchester?
CLARA
Well, that's what I was saying. My
father is getting old. And we're
very close. He's a wonderful man,
really...
She pauses as he straightens. He looks at her a moment.
MARTY
I think you're kidding yourself,
Clara. I used to think about moving
out, you know? And that's what I
used to say. "My mother needs me."
But when you really get down to it,
that ain't it at all. Actually, you
need your father. You know what I
mean? You're living at home, and you
got your father and mother there,
and you can go on like that -- being
a little girl all your life.
CLARA
I'm afraid of being lonely.
MARTY
Oh, you won't be so lonely. You'll
make friends right away.
CLARA
Actually, I don't make friends easily.
MARTY
What're you talking about? You're a
real likeable person. You'll make
friends out there in Portchester
one, two, three. You'll have people
visiting you alla time. I'll come
visit you. I'll borrow my brother
Freddie's car, or you can call me up
when you feel blue, or I'll call you
up. And it's gonna be nice. Don't be
so afraid.
They have only gone a few paces farther when Marty's shoelace
comes loose again. He fidgets self-consciously, bends down
and begins to retie it. The VOICE of Ralph, the well-dressed
man, established previously, is heard.
RALPH'S VOICE
(off-screen)
Hey, Marty!
Marty and Clara both look off...
STREET. CAR WINDOW.
Ralph is leaning out the car window twisting to look back up
the street.
RALPH
(yelling)
Hey, Marty!
Marty and Clara look around to find the source of the voice.
RALPH
Marty! Over here!
Marty and Clara again look around trying to find Ralph. Marty
spots him leaning out of the window of a '47 Chevy parked in
the background.
MARTY
Hello, Ralph.
RALPH
(yelling)
Hey, Marty, come over here a minute.
Marty and Clara start walking toward the Chevy.
INSIDE THE CHEVY.
Ralph and MABEL, a young woman in her early thirties, are
seated in front. In the rear seat of the car, LEO is
sandwiched in between a MISS LOUISE KELLY and a MISS ELAINE
RITCHIE.
RALPH
(explaining to girls)
You'll like this guy. This guy's a
nice guy.
LEO
Who's this? Marty?
RALPH
Yeah.
LEO
(confirming Ralph's
statement)
Oh, this guy's a nice guy.
STREET.
Marty stops and excuses himself from Clara to walk slowly
toward the Chevy. It's about five cars down from him. The
camera pans with him.
OUTSIDE THE CHEVY.
Ralph is leaning out of the window again, watching Marty
approach.
MARTY
(approaching the car)
Hello, Ralph, what's new?
(looks through the
back window,
recognizes Leo)
Hiya, Leo.
LEO
Hiya, Marty.
RALPH
(indicates with his
head that he wishes
to hold a whispered
conference with Marty)
Hey, Marty, come here a minute.
Marty leans with his elbow on the open front window of the
car, his head bowed, waiting for Ralph to speak his piece.
He studiously avoids looking at the girls in the car.
RALPH
(lowering his voice)
Hey, Marty, we got an odd squirrel
here, you interested?
Marty allows his eyes to flicker quickly over the girl in
the seat next to Ralph.
MARTY
Waddaya mean, Ralph?
RALPH
(turning his head
toward the rear of
the car and raising
his voice)
Hey, Louise, I want you to meet Marty
Pilletti. Marty, that's Louise Kelly,
inna back seat there.