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LIBRARY
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BY
BEN HECHT
AND
CHARLES MAC ARTHUR
Introduction by Jed Harris
new york : COVICI1 FRIEDE : publishers
1928
Copyright, 1928.
Copyright, 1928, under International Copyright Union Berne.
All Rights Reserved under International American Copyright Union 191 o,
By Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur.
First Printing, August, 1928.
Second Printing, September, 1928.
Third Printing, October, 1928.
\
MINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA
To
Madison
and
Clark Streets
INTRODUCTION
Before I began to work in the theatre I thought
that playwrights were the most glamorous fellows
in the world. I pictured them strolling into the pala¬
tial offices of great impressarios, or into heady bou¬
doirs of famous stars, always imperturbable and epi¬
grammatic—exquisites to the tips of their fingers.
Where I got this cock-eyed idea I don't know.
But I do know that authors are rarely as arrest¬
ing as their plays. And I have learned from experi¬
ence that a pretty good play can be written by an
idiot. In fact, I can assure you that in a group of
successful playwrights you are likely to discover as
distinguished a body of men as you might find at an
Elks' outing.
All the more pleasant then to devote these lines to
such brilliantly unorthodox gentlemen as the au¬
thors of "The Front Page."
For here is a play which reflects miraculously the
real as well as the literary personalities of the play¬
wrights. Every line of it glows with a demoniacal
humor, sordid, insolent and mischievous to the point
of downright perversity, in which one instantly rec¬
ognizes the heroic comic spirit of its authors.
Ben Hecht and Charlie MacArthur are the
Katzenjammer kids of the theatre. At once sophis¬
ticated and artless, they desire little more than to
upset "der Kaptain" occasionally. "Der Kaptain"
is anyone who aspires to authority, dignity, or any
other pretenses which our heroes regard as bogus. In
the slightly exaggerated but all too human character
of the Sheriff in "The Front Page" they have
achieved a comic portrait in the Shakespearian man¬
ner of low comedy and, I think, the best of its kind
since the boards of the old Globe first creaked under
the official boots of the hallowed Dogberry.
Both Hecht and MacArthur owe their literary
origins to the newspapers of Chicago. Famous crime
reporters, their talents were first cradled in the re¬
counting of great exploits in arson, rape, murder,
gang war and municipal politics. Out of a welter
of jail-breaks, hangings, floods and whore-house
raidings, they have gathered the rich, savory char¬
acters who disport themselves on the stage of the
Times Square Theatre.
And though they would be the last to acknowledge
it, because they are terrified of the word "charm,"
they have nevertheless written "The Front Page"
with a more innocent and unsynthetic charm than I
have ever found in Barrie. In an original manu¬
script almost devoid of stage directions I found this:
"Jennie, the scrublady enters. The reporters rise
and give her an ovation."
And in an age when the theatre seems imprisoned
in a vise of literal and superficial realism, a paradise
for the journeymen and hacks, who infest the Au¬
thors League of America, and in a day when the
successful portrayal of a newspaper reporter is ac¬
complished by attaching to the person of the actor
a hip-flask and a copy of the American Mercury, it
is soothing and reassuring to stumble on a stage re¬
porter who begins an interview in this innocent
fashion:
"Is it true, Madame, that you were the victim of
a Peeping Tom?"
Jed Harris.
THIS PLAY WAS BEAUTIFULLY
PRODUCED BY JED HARRIS AT
THE TIMES SQUARE THEATRE,
NEW YORK, AUGUST 14, 1928.
STAGED BY GEORGE S. KAUFMAN.
CHARACTERS
Wilson, American
Endicott, Post
Murphy, Journal
McCue, City News Bureau
Schwartz, Daily News
Kruger, Journal of Commerce
Bensinger, Tribune
Mrs. Schlosser
Woodenshoes Eichhorn
Diamond Louie
Hildy Johnson, Herald-Examiner
Jennie
Mollie Malloy
Sheriff Hartman
Peggy Grant
Mrs. Grant
The Mayor
Mr. Pincus
Earl Williams
Walter Burns
Tony
Carl
Policemen, Citizens
SCENES
The scene is the Press Room in the
Criminal Courts Building, Chicago.
ACT I:
Eight-thirty o'clock on a Friday night.
ACT II:
Shortly afterward.
ACT III:
A few minutes later,
"CEItc J[ront
ACT I
This is the Press Room in the Criminal Courts Build¬
ing, Chicago; a chamber set aside by the City Fathers
for the use of journalists and their friends.
It is a bare, disordered room, peopled by newspaper¬
men in need of shaves, pants pressing and small
change. Hither reporters are drawn by an irresist¬
ible lure, the privilege of telephoning free.
There are seven telephones in the place, communi¬
cating with the seven newspapers of Chicago.
All are free.
An equally important lure is the continuous poker
game that has been going on now for a generation,
presumably with the same pack of cards.
Here is the rendezvous of some of the most able and
amiable bums in the newspaper business; here they
meet to gossip, play cards, sleep off jags and date up
waitresses between such murders, fires, riots and
other public events as concern them.
The furniture is the simplest; two tables, an assort¬
ment of chairs, spittoons and waste baskets, a water
cooler, etc.—two dollars worth of dubious firewood,
all told.
2 £D]e ^rortt page ACT1
There is one elegant item, however; a huge, ornate
black walnut desk, the former property of Mayor
Fred A. Busse, deceased about 1904. It now be¬
longs to Roy Bensinger, feature writer for the
Chicago Tribune and a fanatic on the subject of
hygiene.
Despite Mr. Bensinger s views, his desk is the re¬
pository for soiled linen, old sandwiches, empty
bottles and other ite??is shed by his colleagues.
The two tables serve as telephone desks, gaming
boards and {in a pinch) as lits d? amour.
The electric lights are naked of shades.
The walls, unpainted since the building was erected
in 1885, sport a frieze of lithographs, hand painted
studies, rotogravure cuttings and heroic pencil
sketches, all on the same theme: Woman. The po¬
litical unrest of the journalists is represented by an
unfavorable picture of Kaiser Wilhelm II, hand
drawn.
At the stage left is a door, labelled "Gents".
At the back is a double door, opening on the main
corridor of the building.
At the stage right are two high, old fashioned win¬
dows overlooking the Cook county jail.
It is eight-thirty at night.
Four men are playing poker at the main table in the
center of the room. They are Murphy of the
act i Cfye $vont page 3
Journal, Endicott of the Post, Schwartz of the News
and Wilson of the American; four braves known to
their kind as 'police reporters. Kat atonic, seedy Paul
Reveres, full of strange oaths and a touch of child¬
hood.
Off by hi?nself in a chair sits Ernie Kruger, a somno¬
lent reporter for the Journal of Cofnmerce. Ernie is
gifted beyond his comrades. He plays the banjo
and sings. He is drea7nily rendering his favorite
piece: "By the Light of the Silvery Moon" as the
poker game progresses.
McCue of the City News Bureau is telephoning at
Bensinger's desk through the gamblers' chatter. He
is calling all the police stations, hospitals, etc. on
behalf of his companions, in a never-ending quest
for news. His reiterations, whined in a manner in¬
tended to be ingratiating, have in them the monot¬
onous bally-hoo wail of the Press.
And so:
THE CARD PLAYERS: Crack it for a dime. . . .
By me. ... I stay. . . . Me too. . . . I'm behind
again. ... I was even a couple of minutes ago. . . .
Papers? . . . Three. . . . Two. . . . Three to the
dealer.
McCUE into phone: Kenwood three four hun¬
dred. . . . Another telephone rings. Hey, take that,
one of you guys. Ernie, you're not doing anything.
4 Cfyc $vont page act i
They pay no attention. With a sigh, McCue props
one telephone receiver against his ear; reaches over
and answers the other phone. What's the matter
with you guys? Are you all crippled or something?
Into second phone: Press room! Suddenly he gives
attention to the first phone. Hello, Sarge . . . McCue.
Hold the line a minute. Back to second phone. No,
I told you it was the press room. Hangs up; takes
■first phone again. Anything doing, Sarge? . . . All
right. Thank you, Sarge. Hangs up.
THE CARD PLAYERS: What are you waiting
for? How'd I know you were out? Two Johns.
Ladies, etc.
McCUE: Robey four five hundred.
MURPHY: Ernie! Take that mouth organ in the
can and play it! The music swells a little in reply.
ENDICOTT: These cards are like washrags.
WILSON: Let's chip in for a new deck.
SCHWARTZ: These are good enough—I'm eighty
cents out already!
McCUE into phone: Is this the home of Mrs. F. D.
Margolies?
MURPHY: I'd like a deck with some aces in it.
McCUE cordially, into phone: This is Mr. McCue
of the City News Bureau. ... Is it true, Madame,
that you were the victim of a Peeping Tom?
act i cfye ^rotxt page 5
KRUGER: Ask her if she's worth peeping at.
WILSON: Has she got a friend1?
McCue into phone: Now, that ain't the right atti¬
tude to take, Madame. All we want is the facts. . . .
Well, what did this Peeping Tom look like? I mean,
for instance, would you say he looked like a college
professor?
ENDICOTT: Tell her I can run up for an hour.
KRUGER: I'll accommodate her if she'll come
down here.
SCHWARTZ: Byrne.
McCUE into phone: Just a minute, Madame. Is it
true, Mrs. Margolies, that you took the part of
Pocahontas in the Elks' Pageant seven years ago?
. . . Hello. To the others: She hung up.
MURPHY: The hell with her! A dime. The fire-
alarm box, over the door, begins to ring.
ENDICOTT: Where's that fire?
WILSON: Three-two-one!
SCHWARTZ: Clark and Erie.
KRUGER wearily as he strums: Too far.
McCUE into phone: Harrison four thousand.
SCHWARTZ rises; stretching; ambles over and
looks out the window: Oh, Christ!—what time is
it, anyway?
6 Cfye ^rortt page act I
WILSON: Half past eight. Rises; goes to the water
cooler.
MURPHY drawing cards: One off the top.
WILSON: How's the wife, Ed? Any better?
SCHWARTZ: Worse.
WILSON: That's tough.
SCHWARTZ: Sitting here all night, waiting for
'em to hang this bastard! A gesture toward the jail.
KRUGER: It's hard work, all right.
McCUE into phone: Hello, Sarge? McCue. Any¬
thing doing? . . . Yeah? That's swell. . . . The
players pause. A love triangle, huh? . . . Did he kill
her? . . . Killed 'em both! Ah! . . .Was she good
looking? ... A pause. With vast disgust. What?
Oh, Niggers! The players relax.
KRUGER: That's a break.
McCUE: No, never mind—thank you, Sarge.
Jiggles receiver. Englewood, six eight hundred. The
Examiner phone rings. It is on the main table.
Endicott answers.
ENDICOTT into phone: Criminal Courts press
room. . . . No, Hildy Johnson ain't here. . . . Oh,
hello, Mr. Burns. . . . No, he ain't here yet, Mr.
Burns. Hangs up. Walter Burns again. Something
must have happened.
act i Cfye £ront page 7
SCHWARTZ: I'm telling you what's happened.
Hildy quit.
MURPHY: What do you mean, quit"? He's a fix¬
ture on the Examiner.
KRUGER: Yeh! He goes with the woodwork.
SCHWARTZ: I got it from Bert Neeley. I'm
telling you—he's gettin' married.
MURPHY: Walter woudn't let him get married.
He'd kidnap him at the altar.
McCUE into phone: Hello, Sarge. McCue. Any¬
thing doing?
ENDICOTT: Remember what he did to Bill Fen-
ton, when he wanted to go to Hollywood'? Had
him thrown into jail for arson.
MURPHY: Forgery.
McCUE: Shut up! . . . Into phone: Anybody hurt?
. . . Oh, fine! What's his name ? . . . Spell it. . . .
S. . . . C. . . . Z. . . . J. . . . Oh, the hell with it.
Hangs up.
ENDICOTT: A guy ain't going to walk out on a
job when he's drawing down seventy bucks a week.
SCHWARTZ: Yeah? Well, if he ain't quit, why
ain't he here covering the hanging?
McCUE into phone: Give me rewrite.
8 Cfye ^rortt page act i
ENDICOTT: Walter sounded like he was having
a hemorrhage.
McCUE into phone: Hello, Emil. Nothing new on
the hanging. But here's a big scoop for you.
SCHWARTZ: I wish to God I could quit.
KRUGER: You'd think he'd come in and say
goodbye.
MURPHY: That Swede bastard!
McCUE: Shut up, fellas. Into phone: Ready,
Emil? He intones: Dr. Irving Zobel—Z for Zebra
—O for onion—B for baptize—E for anything and
L for Lousy—
CARD PLAYERS: Pass. ... By me. . . . Crack
it for a dime. . . . Stay.
McCUE into phone: Yes, Zobel! That's right!
With offices at sixteen-o-eight Cottage Grove Ave¬
nue. Well, this bird was arrested to-night on com¬
plaint of a lot of angry husbands. They claim he
was treating their wives with electricity for a dollar
a smack.
MURPHY: Is the Electric Teaser in again?
McCUE intoning into phone: He had a big follow¬
ing, a regular army of fat old dames that was being
neglected by their husbands. So they was visiting
this Dr. Zobel in their kimonas to get electricity.
act i ^rorit page 9
ENDICOTT: I understand he massages them too.
McCUE into phone: Anyhow, the Doctor is being
held for mal-practice and the station is full of his
patients who claim he's innocent. But from what
the husbands say it looks like he's a Lothario. All
right. Jiangs up; jiggles receiver.
MURPHY: Hey, Ernie, why don't you go in for
electricity instead of the banjo"? Bensinger enters.
He is a studious and slightly neurotic fellow who
stands out like a sore thumb owing to his tidy ap¬
pearance.
KRUGER: It's got no future.
McCUE into phone: Sheridan two thousand.
BENSINGER with horror: What the hell, Mac!
Is that the only telephone in the place?
McCUE: It's the only one with a mouthpiece on it.
This is true.
MURPHY putting down his hand: Read 'em and
weep. Takes the pot. Prepares to deal.
BENSINGER howling: How many times have I
got to tell you fellows to leave my phone alone?
If you've got to talk through a mouthpiece go buy
one, like I did!
MURPHY: Aw, shut up, Listerine.
McCUfi at another phone: Sheridan two thousand.
io tLty $vont page act i
BENSINGER: My God, I'm trying to keep this
phone clean and I'm not going to have you fellows
coughing and spitting in it, either, or pawing it with
your hands!
SCHWARTZ: What is this—a Hospital or some¬
thing4?
ENDICOTT: How's that pimple coming along,
Roy?
BENSINGER pulling a suit of dirty underwear
from a drawer of his desk: And you don't have to
use this desk for a toilet!
MURPHY: Yeah? Well, suppose you quit stink¬
ing up this place with your God dam antiseptics
for a change! Removing a mouldy piece of pie from
a desk drawer.
BENSINGER wailing: Ain't you guys got any
self-respect?
McCUE into phone: Hello, Sarge! . . . McCue.
Congratulations on that Polack capture, Sarge. I
hear you're going to be promoted. Anything doing?
THE CARD PLAYERS: Nickel Up a dime.
. . . Drop. . . . Stay.
McCUE into phone: Yeah? . . . Just a second,
Sarge. ... To the players: Nice little feature,
fellas. Little kid, golden curls, everything, lost out
act i tO)e ^rottt page n
near Grand Crossing. The cops are feeding her
candy.
MURPHY: What else are they doing to her ?
McCUE: Don't you want it"?
SCHWARTZ: No!
ENDICOTT: Stick it!
WILSON: All yours. Starts to deal a new hand.
McCUE into phone: Never mind, Sarge. Thank
you, Sarge. McCue hangs up.
SCHWARTZ: Anything new on the hanging,
Bensinger?
WILSON dealing: My deal, ain't it?
MURPHY: Hey! Zonite!
BENSINGER: What is it?
MURPHY: Question before the house: Gentle¬
man wants to know what's new on the hanging.
BENSINGER: Nothing special.
KRUGER with a yawn: Did you see the sheriff?
BENSINGER bitterly: Why don't you get your
own news?
KRUGER philosophically: Somebody ought to see
the sheriff.
ENDICOTT: Anyhow, this looks like the last
hanging we'll ever have to cover.
i2 Cf?e ^rortt page act i
SCHWARTZ: Yeah. Can you imagine their put¬
ting in an electric chair? That's awful.
ENDICOTT: Going to toast them, like Lucky
Strikes.
MURPHY: Who opened?
SCHWARTZ: What's the matter? Got a hand?
Mrs. Schlosser enters. She is the wife of Herman
Schlosser, of the Examiner. Mrs. S. once used to go
to dances, movies and ice cream parlors and she is
still pretty, although shop-worn. If she is a bit
acidulated, tight-lipped and sharp-spoken, no one
can blame her, least of all these bravos of the press
room, who have small respect for themselves or each
other as husbands, fathers and lovers.
ENDICOTT as guiltily as if he were the errant Mr.
Schlosser: Hello, Mrs. Schlosser. Herman hasn't
been in yet.
McCUE: Hello, Mrs. Schlosser. Have you tried
the Harrison Street Station? Helpfully: He may
be sleeping in the squad room.
SCHWARTZ bitterly: What became of that rule
about women coming into this press room?
MURPHY: Yeah—I don't let my own wife come
in here.
MRS. SCHLOSSER inexorably: Did he have any
money left when you saw him?
act i Cfye $vont page 13
McCUE: Well, I didn't exactly see him. Did you,
Mike?
ENDICOTT: No, I didn't really see him either.
MRS. SCHLOSSER like twenty wives: Oh, you
didn't? Well, was he still drinking?
McCUE with unconvincing zeal: I tell you what,
I'll call up the grand jury room if you want. Some¬
times he goes to sleep up there.
MRS. SCHLOSSER: Don't trouble yourself! I
notice Hildy Johnson ain't here either. I suppose
the two of them are out sopping it up together.
SCHWARTZ: Now, you oughn't to talk that way,
Mrs. Schlosser. Hildy's reformed—he's gettin' mar¬
ried.
MRS. SCHLOSSER: Married? Well, all I can
say is, God help his wife!
MURPHY: Come on—are we playing cards or
aren't we?
MRS. SCHLOSSER: I suppose you've cleaned
Herman out.
WILSON a nervous husband in his own right:
Honest, Mrs. Schlosser, we ain't seen him.
MRS. SCHLOSSER bitterly: He can't come home.
I kept dinner waiting till eleven o'clock last night
and he never even called up.
*4 5tront page act i
ENDICOTT: Well, why pick on us?
KRUGER: Yeah—we're busy.
A ■phone rings.
ENDICOTT answering it: Press room!
MRS. SCHLOSSER: You know where he is.
You're covering up for him.
McCUE: Honest to God, Mrs. Schlosser—
ENDICOTT into phone: . . . No, Mr. Burns,
Hildy ain't showed up yet.
MRS. SCHLOSSER: Is that Walter Burns? Let
me talk to him!
ENDICOTT into phone: Just a minute, Mr.
Burns. Herman Schlosser's wife wants to talk to
you.
MRS. SCHLOSSER taking the phone; honeyed
and polite: Hello, Mr. Burns.
MURPfiY: Come on—who opened1?
ENDICOTT: Check it.
MURPHY: A dime.
MRS. SCHLOSSER: This is Mrs. Schlosser
Oh, I'm very well, thank you. . . . Mr. Burns, I
was just wondering if you knew where Herman
was. He didn't come home last night, and you know
it was pay day. . . . Tearfully: But it won't be all
right. I'm just going crazy. . . . I've done that, but
act i 5rortt page 15
the cashier won't give it to me. ... So I thought
maybe if you gave me some sort of order—oh, will
you, Mr. Burns'? That's awfully nice of you. . . .
I'm sorry to have to do a thing like that, but you
know how Herman is about money. Thank you ever
so much. Hangs up; turns on the reporters viciously.
You're all alike, every one of you! You ought to
be ashamed of yourselves!
MURPHY: All right, we're ashamed. To Wilson:
A dime's bet.
MRS. SCHLOSSER: Sitting around like a lot of
dirty, drunken tramps! Poker! She grabs Murphy's
cards.
MURPHY leaping up in fury: Here! Gimme
those! What the hell!
MRS. SCHLOSSER: You know where he is, and
I'm going to stay right here till I find out!
MURPHY: He's at Hockstetter's, that's where
he is! Now give me those cards!
MRS. SCHLOSSER: Where1?
WILSON: The Turkish Bath on Madison Street!
ENDICOTT: In the basement!
MURPHY: Give me those!
MRS. SCHLOSSER: So! You did know. Murphy
16 tEfye $xont page act i
nervously awaits his cards. Liars! throws the
cards face up on the table.
MURPHY she throzvs them: Hey! They spread
out on the table.
MRS. SCHLOSSER: You're a bunch of gentle¬
men, I must say! Newspapermen! Bums! Exits.
MURPHY almost in tears: Look! The second
straight flush I ever held.
ENDICOTT: Jesus!
MURPHY: Eight, nine, ten, jack, and queen of
spades. If I was married to that dame I'd kick her
humpbacked.
BENSINGER having cleansed his telephone with
a dab of absorbent cotton and a bottle of antiseptic:
into phone: City Desk!
ENDICOTT gathering the cards together: I don't
know what gets into women. I took Bob Brody
home the other night and his wife broke his arm
with a broom.
BENSINGER having collected his notes, and thor¬
oughly protected himself from contagion by wrap¬
ping a piece of paper around the handle of his
telephone: Shut up, you fellows! Into phone: This
is Bensinger. Here's a new lead on the Earl Wil¬
liams hanging. . . . Yeah, I just saw the sheriff. He
act i cfye $vont page 17
won't move the hanging up a minute. ... I don't
care who he promised. . . . All right, I'll talk to
him again, but it's no use. The execution is set for
seven o'clock in the morning.
KRUGER to the tune of "Three O'clock in the
Morning" ; sings: Seven o'clock in the morning—
BENSINGER: Shut up Ernie. . . . Into phone.
Give me a rewrite man.
KRUGER morose: Why can't they jerk these guys
at a reasonable hour, so we can get some sleep.
BENSINGER to the room: I asked the sheriff to
move it up to five, so we could make the City Edi¬
tion. Just because I asked him to, he wouldn't.
MURPHY: That guy wouldn't do anything for
his mother.
KRUGER: He gives a damn if we stay up all
night!
ENDICOTT: You've got no kick coming. I've had
two dinners home in the last month.
BENSINGER into phone: Hello. Jake? . . . New
lead on the Williams hanging. And listen—don't
put Hartman's name in it. Just say "the Sheriff."
The reporters listen. Ready? . . . The condemned
man ate a hearty dinner. . . . Yeah, Mock turtle
soup, chicken pot pie, hashed brown potatoes, com¬
bination salad, and pie a la mode.
18 tefye ^rorit page act i
KRUGER: Make mine the same.
BENSINGER into phone: No—I don't know
what kind of pie.
MURPHY: Eskimo!
McCUE wistfully: I wish I had a hamburger sand¬
wich.
BENSINGER into phone: And, Jake, get this in
as a big favor. The whole dinner was furnished by
Charlie Apfel. . . . Yeah—Apfel. A for adenoids,
P for psychology, F for Frank, E for Eddie, and
L for—ah—
MURPHY: Lay an egg.
BENSINGER: Proprietor of the Apfel—wants—
to—see—you—restaurant.
WILSON: That means a new hat for j-o/^body.
A soft cadenza from the banjo.
MURPHY: I better catch the fudge, fellas. With¬
out dropping his cards, Murphy picks up a tele¬
phone. He pantomimes for three cards.
BENSINGER into phone: Now here's the situa¬
tion on the eve of the hanging. The officials are
prepared for a general uprising of radicals at the
hour of execution, but the Sheriff still refuses to
be intimidated by the Red menace.
MURPHY into his phone, while accepting three
act i cfye ^rortt page 19
cards: Give me a rewrite man, will you"? . . . Yeah.
Some more crap on the Earl Williams hanging.
BENSINGER into phone, as the reporters listen:
A double guard has just been thrown around the jail,
the municipal buildings, railroad terminals, and ele¬
vated stations. Also, the Sheriff has just received
four more letters threatening his life. He is going
to answer these threats by a series of raids against
the Friends of American Liberty and other Bol¬
shevik organizations. Call you later. Hangs up.
SCHWARTZ: Bet a dime.
MURPHY into phone: Ready? . . . Sheriff Hart-
man has just put two hundred more relatives on the
payroll to protect the city against the Red army,
which is leaving Moscow in a couple of minutes.
Consults his hand. Up a dime. Back to phone. And
to prove to the voters that the Red menace is on the
square, he has just wrote himself four more letters
threatening his life. I know he wrote them on ac¬
count of the misspelling.
ENDICOTT: Drop.
MURPHY into phone: That's all, except the
doomed man ate a hearty dinner. As follows:
Noodle soup, rustabiff, sweet a-potat', cranberry
sauce, and pie-a-la mud.
SCHWARTZ: I raise another dime.
20 Cfye $ront page act i
MURPHY consults his cards: Wait a minute. Up
again. Back to phone. Statement from who? The
Sheriff? . . . Quote him for anything you want—
he can't read. Hangs up. Bensinger s phone rings.
THE CARD PLAYERS: Call Three bullets.
. . . Pay at this window. . . . Shuffle that deck. . . .
I get the same hand every time.
BENSINGER answering his phone: What? To
McCue, as Schwartz starts to shuffle. Didn't you
send that in about the new alienist?
McCUE flat on his back on the smaller table: I got
my hands full with the stations.
BENSINGER into phone: All right, I'll give you
what I got. Dr. Max J. Eglehofer. From Vienna.
There's a dozen envelopes on him in the morgue.
. . . Well, he's going to examine Williams at the
request of—ah—wait a minute— Shuffles through
his notes—the United Federation for World Better¬
ment.
KRUGER: I'm for that.
BENSINGER: Sure—He's one of the biggest
alienists in the world. He's the author of that book,
"The Personality Gland."
McCUE: And where to put it.
BENSINGER modestly into phone: He just auto¬
graphed it for me.
act i Cfye ^ront page 21
MURPHY: Did he bite his initials in your pants,
too? . . . Nickel.
KRUGER into phone lazily: Give me the City
Desk!
BENSINGER into phone: All right. He's going
to examine him in about fifteen minutes. I'll let
you know. He hangs up and resumes his study of
"The Personality Gland."
KRUGER very tired: Kruger calling! Nothing
new on the hanging.
SCHWARTZ: Say, how about roodles on straights
or better? I want to get some of my dough back.
WILSON: Hey, I thought we weren't going to
give them alienists any more free advertising.
ENDICOTT: That's the fourteenth pair of whisk¬
ers they called in on this God damned case.
MURPHY: Them alienists make me sick. All they
do is goose you and send you a bill for five hundred
bucks.
McCUE into phone: This is McCue. . . . Looks
like the hanging's coming off at seven all right.
. . . Yeah, the Governor's gone fishing and can't
be found. . . . No, fishing. From the direction of
the jail comes a sudden whirr and crash. They're
testing the gallows now. . . . Yeah—testing 'em,
with sandbags. . . . Maybe you can hear 'em. He
22 ^ront page act i
holds up phone towards window and laughs pleas¬
antly. Then, bitterly: What? The same to you!
Hangs up. Another whirr and crash.
SCHWARTZ: I wish they'd quit practising. It
makes me nervous.
WILSON: Up a dime.
KRUGER yelling out of window: Hey, Jacobi!
Quit playing with that gallus! How do you expect
us to do any work?
VOICE FROM JAIL YARD: Cut that yelling,
you God damned bums!
McCUE: Ain't much respect for the press around
here. The fire alarm sounds the same number as be¬
fore.
McCUE: That's a second alarm, ain't it1?
MURPHY: Who cares?
KRUGER motionless: Probably some orphanage.
MURPHY: Maybe it's another cat-house. Remem¬
ber when Big Minnie's burned down, and the
Mayor of Galesburg came running out? A phone
rings.
THE CARD PLAYERS: Dime I call. . . .
Two sixes, etc.
McCUE answering phone: What? The Mayor's
office! To the rest: Maybe a statement.
act i Cfyc $ront page 23
KRUGER: Tell 'em we're busy.
McCUE into phone: Hello. Then exuberantly:
Hello you God damn Swede! To the others: It's
Hildy.
MURPHY: What's he doing in the Mayor's
office1?
McCUE into phone: What1? What's that? What?
To the others: He's stinko! Into phone: What are
you doing with the Mayor?
MURPHY: If he's got any left tell him to bring
it over.
McCUE into phone: Huh? Kissing him good-bye?
ENDICOTT: Tell him to come over and kiss us.
MURPHY: I'm getting ready.
McCUE into phone: Well hurry up. To the room:
He's stepping high.
MURPHY: What did he say?
KRUGER: Is he coming over?
McCUE: That's what he said.
THE CARD PLAYERS: Pass. ... Byrne. .. .
Take a deal, etc. Woodenshoes Eichhorn enters. He
is a big, moon-faced, childish and incompetent Ger¬
man policeman.
BENSINGER: Hello, Woodenshoes. Got any
news?
24 Cfye ^rortt page act i
WOODENSHOES solemnly: I just been over to
the death house. Did you hear what Earl Williams
said to the priest?
ENDICOTT: Aw, forget it!
MURPHY: The paper's full of the hanging now.
We ain't got room for the ads.
BENSINGER looking up from his book: What
did he say, Woodenshoes?
WOODENSHOES awed: He says to the priest
that he was innocent.
MURPHY: Do you know any more jokes'?
WOODENSHOES: Well, I'm just telling you
what he says.
MURPHY: I suppose that copper committed sui¬
cide. Or maybe it was a love pact.
WOODENSHOES: Well, Williams has got a
very good explanation for that.
ENDICOTT derisively, to the reporters: He'll
start crying in a minute. To Woodenshoes: Why
don't you send him some roses, like Mollie Malloy?
SCHWARTZ: Yeah. She thinks he's innocent, too.
WOODENSHOES: You fellas don't understand.
He admits killing the policeman, but he claims
they're just using that as an excuse to hang him, on
account he's a radical. But the thing that gets me—
ACT i Cfye ^rortt page 25
McCUE: Before you go on, Woodenshoes, would
you mind running down to the corner and getting
me a hamburger sandwich?
WOODENSHOES patiently: Personally, my feel¬
ing is that Earl Williams is a dual personality type
on account of the way his head is shaped. It's a
typical case of psychology. The card game goes on.
Now you take the events leading up to the crime;
his hanging a red flag out of the window on Wash¬
ington's Birthday. That ain't normal, to begin with.
The officer ought to have realized when he went up
there that he was dealing with a lunatic. I'm against
having colored policemen on the force, anyway. And
I'll tell you why—
ENDICOTT suddenly: Make that two hamburg¬
ers, will you, Woodenshoes, like a good fellow?
WOODENSHOES hurt: I thought you fellas
might be interested in the psychological end of it.
None of the papers have touched that aspect.
MURPHY profound, but casual: Listen, Wood¬
enshoes, this guy Williams is just a bird that had the
tough luck to kill a nigger policeman in a town where
the nigger vote is important.
KRUGER: Sure! If he'd bumped him off down
south they'd have given him a banquet and a trip to
Europe.
26 cfye ^rortt page act i
McCUE: Oh, the South ain't so bad. How about
Russia, where they kill all the Jews and nobody says
anything?
MURPHY: Williams was a bonanza for the City
Hall. He gets hung—everybody gets elected on a
law and order platform.
ENDICOTT: "Reform the Reds with a Rope."
WILSON makes an unprintable sound.
MURPHY: When that baby drops through the
trap tomorrow, it's a million votes. He's just a di¬
vine accident. Bet a dime.
WOODENSHOES blinking thru the above: That's
it—an accident. He didn't know it was a policeman,
even. Why, when this officer woke him up—
McCUE tolerantly: Sure. You're right, Wooden-
shoes. And ask 'em to put a lot of ketchup on one
of them sandwiches, will you?
WILSON sore: I haven't filled a hand all night.
Diamond Louie, a ham gun man, enters. He is sleek,
bejewelled and sinister to everybody but the
caballeros of the Press room, who knew him when
he ran a fruit stand. He is greeted with unction.
LOUIE: Hello, fellows.
SCHWARTZ: Well, well, well! Diamond Louie!
act i cfye £rortt page 27
MURPHY: If it ain't the Kid himself! Oooh!
Look at the pop bottles!
McCUE: Hurry up, Woodenshoes! I'm starving!
KRUGER: Get one for me, Woodenshoes!
BENSINGER: Make mine a plain lettuce—on
gluten bread.
WOODENSHOES blinking: Where am I gonna
get the dough for all these eats'?
McCUE: Charge it.
MURPHY: You got a badge, ain't you? What's it
good for?
WOODENSHOES shuffling out. Four hamburgers
and a lettuce.
DIAMOND LOUIE: Where's Hildy Johnson?
ENDICOTT rudely: Up in Minnie's room.
MURPHY: Who wants to know?
KRUGER: Say Louie, I hear your old gang is go¬
ing to bump off Kinky White.
DIAMOND LOUIE with sinister reticence: Is that
so?
MURPHY: Better wait till after election or you
won't make the front page.
ENDICOTT: Yeah. We had to spike that Willie
Mercer killing.
28 Cfye ^toixt page act i
DIAMOND LOUIE: Well, I'll tell you. I'm off
that racket. I don't even associate with them fellas,
any more.
MURPHY: Go on! You gotta kill somebody every
day or you don't get any supper.
DIAMOND LOUIE: No. No kiddin'. I'm prac¬
tically retired, you know what I mean?
SCHWARTZ: Retired from what? You never car¬
ried anything but a bean blower!
DIAMOND LOUIE: All joking aside. Honest.
I'm one of you fellas now. I'm in the newspaper
game.
MURPHY with scorn: You're what?
ENDICOTT: He's gettin' delusions of grandeur.
DIAMOND LOUIE. Yeah. That's right. I'm a
newspaperman . . . working for Walter Burns.
WILSON: What!
ENDICOTT very politely: What you doin' for
Burns? A little pimping?
MURPHY: He's marble editor.
DIAMOND LOUIE with dignity: I'm assistant
circulation manager for de nort' side.
WILSON: Got a title and everything.
ENDICOTT: Burns'll be hiring animal acts next.
act i Che £ront page 29
SCHWARTZ: What d'ye want Hildy for*? Tail¬
ing him for Walter*?
ENDICOTT: What do you know about that,
Louie. We hear he's quit the Examiner.
McCUE: Yeah. What's the dope, Louie"?
DIAMOND LOUIE: Well, I don't think it's per¬
manent, you know what I mean?
SCHWARTZ: What the hell happened*?
ENDICOTT: They must of murdered each other,
the way Walter sounded.
DIAMOND LOUIE: Naaaa! Just a little per¬
sonal argument. Nothin' serious.
McCUE: Come on . . . what's the dirt1?
DIAMOND LOUIE: I don't know a single thing
about it.
McCUE: Should we tell Hildy you were lookin'
for him*?
DIAMOND LOUIE with affected nonchalance:
No. Never mind. Again the whirr and crash of the
gallows. Louie looks. What's that?
ENDICOTT: They're fixin' up a pain in the neck
for somebody.
DIAMOND LOUIE with a genteel lift of his eye¬
brows: Hah! Mr. Weeliams!
30 ACT 1
MURPHY: They'll be doing that for you some
day.
DIAMOND LOUIE very flattered: Maybe. To
the flayers: Well—keep your eye on the dealer.
He starts to leave.
MURPHY turning from the card game for the first
time: Wait a second, Louie. Diamond Louie pauses
politely: Come here. As Diamond Louie approaches:
Where do you keep your cap pistol1? . . . Here4? Lie
gooses Diamond Louie.
DIAMOND LOUIE with a leap: Hey! For God's
sake! Look out, will you! Jesus, that's a hell of a
thing to do! . . . He exits angrily.
ENDICOTT calling after him: Call again, Louie.
MURPHY: Any time you're in the building.
KRUGER: And don't bump off anybody before
election day.
MURPHY sadly: Louie hasn't got much self con¬
trol.
ENDICOTT: What do you know about Hildy ?
Looks like he's quit, all right.
WILSON: Yeah . . . What do you think of that1?
ENDICOTT: There won't be any good reporters
left after awhile.
act i Cfye $vont page 31
MURPHY gently: No. Mossie Enright getting
stewed and falling down the elevator shaft. And
poor old Larry Malm.
SCHWARTZ: And Carl Pancake that disappeared.
A phone rings.
ENDICOTT answering it: Hello ... Oh hello, Mr.
Burns. Why, he was in the mayor's office a few
minutes ago . . . Hildy Johnson enters. He is a
happy-go-lucky Swede with a pants kicking sense
of humor. He is barbered and tailored like a normal
citizen—a fact which at once excites the wonder and
mirth of his colleagues. Hildy is of a vanishing type
—the lusty, hoodlumesque half drunken caballero
that was the newspaperman of our youth. Schools
of journalism and the advertising business have
nearly extirpated the species. Now and then one of
these boys still pops up in the profession and is
hailed by his editor as a survival of a golden age.
The newspapermen who have already appeared in
this press room, are in reality similar survivals.
Their presence under one roof is due to the fact that
Chicago is a sort of journalistic Yellowstone Park
offering haven to a last herd of fantastic bravos that
once roamed the newspaper offices of the country.
Mr. Johnson carries a new suitcase, two paper par¬
cels and—a cane! A rowdy outburst succeeds his
entrance.
32 £f?e ^rortt page act i
MURPHY loudly: Ooh! Lookit the cane! What
ore }ou doing1? Turning fairy*?
McCUE: Yum, yum! Kiss me!
WILSON: Where the hell you been*?
ENDICOTT: Walter Burns on the wire, Hildy.
HILDY: What's that?
McCUE: What's the matter, Hildy? My God!
He's got a shave!
SCHWARTZ: Jesus! Look at the crease in his
pants!
ENDICOTT: It's Walter Burns, Hildy. Will you
talk to him for God's sake!
HILDY: Tell that paranoic bastard to take a sweet
kiss for himself! . . . Come on Ernie! . . . Sings.
"Goodbye, forever . .
ENDICOTT: Say, listen, Hildy. Will you do me
a personal favor and talk to Walter? He knows
you're here.
McCUE: He's calling up about nine million times.
KRUGER: All we do is answer that God damn
phone . . .
MURPHY: What's the matter? Scared of him?
HILDY: I'll talk to that maniac—with pleasure.
Into phone, "with mock formality: Hello, Mr. Burns.
act i Cfye £rortt page 33
. . . What's that, Mr. Burns'? . . . Why your lan¬
guage is shocking, Mr. Burns. . . Now, listen, you
lousy baboon. Get a pencil and paper and take this
down: Get this straight because this is important.
It's the Hildy Johnson curse. The next time I see
you—no matter where I am or what I'm doing—
I'm going to walk right up to you and hammer on
that monkey skull of yours until it rings like a
Chinese gong. . . .
McCUE: Oh, boy!
ENDICOTT: That's telling him!
HILDY holding sizzling receiver to the nearest re¬
porter: Listen to him! Into phone: No, I ain't go¬
ing to cover the hanging! I wouldn't cover the last
supper for you! Not if they held it all over again in
the middle of Clark Street. . . . Never mind the
Vaseline, Jocko! It won't do you any good this time!
Because I'm going to New York like I told you,
and if you know what's good for you you'll stay
West of Gary, Indiana! A Johnson never forgets!
He hangs up. And that, boys, is what is known as
telling the managing editor. The reporters agree
loudly.
BENSINGER: Can't you guys talk without yell¬
ing'?
HILDY his song rising again: "Goodbye, For¬
ever I"
34 $rortt page act i
VOICE from jail yard: Hey cut the yodeling!
Where do you think you are!
HILDY moving toward window, takes out his
pocket flask: Hey, Jacobi! Pickle-nose! He takes a
final drink from the flask, then aims and throws it
out the window. A scream of rage arises from the
jail yard. Hildy smiles and salutes his victim: On
the button! Turns to Ernie, resumes his song.
BENSINGER pleading: Oh, shut up!
WILSON: What did you quit for, Hildy?
SCHWARTZ: We hear you're going to get mar¬
ried?
HILDY: I 'm getting married, all right. Shows
tickets. See that1? Three tickets to New York!
Eleven-eighteen tonight!
WILSON: Tonight!
McCUE: Jesus, that's quick!
MURPHY: What do you mean three"?
HILDY: Me and my girl and her God-dam ma!
ENDICOTT: Kinda sudden, ain't it?
SCHWARTZ: What the hell do you want to get
married for?
HILDY: None of your business!
MURPHY: Ooooh! He's in love! Tootsie-wootsie!
act i ^rortt page 35
McCUE: Is she a white girl?
ENDICOTT: Has she got a good shape1?
WILSON: Does Walter know you're getting mar¬
ried'?
HILDY: Does he know Fm getting married1? He
congratulated me! Shook hands like a pal! Offered
to throw me a farewell dinner even.
ENDICOTT: That's his favorite joke—farewell
dinners.
MURPHY: He poisons people at them.
HILDY: He gets me up to Polack Mike's—fills me
full of rotgut—I'd have been there yet if it hadn't
been for the fire escape!
SCHWARTZ: That's what he done to the Chief of
Police!
HILDY: Can you imagine? Trying to bust up my
marriage! After shaking hands! . . . Anxiously.
Say, my girl didn't call up, did she, or come in look¬
ing for me? What time is it, anyway?
SCHWARTZ: Quarter past nine.
McCUE: Eighteen minutes after.
HILDY starting to take off his coat: I got to be at
this house at seven.
ENDICOTT: What house?
36 tn?e ^rorxt page act i
HILDY: Somebody giving a farewell party to my
girl.
WILSON: At seven tonight?
HILDY: Yeah?
MURPHY: You got to run like hell.
HILDY: Oh, that's all right. Fellow doesn't quit
a job every day. Especially when its Walter Burns.
The lousy baboon—
ENDICOTT: When's the wedding, Hildy?
HILDY: It's in New York, so you guys ain't go¬
ing to have any fun with it. None of them fake
warrants or kidnapping the bride, with me! Hildy
folds his old shirt and puts it in Bensinger's drawer.
BENSINGER: Aw, for God's sake! Cut that out!
Throws the shirt on the floor.
WILSON: Everybody's getting this New York
bug. It's just a rube town for mine.
SCHWARTZ: I was on a New York paper once—
the Times. You might as well work in a bank.
MURPHY: I hear all the reporters in New York
are lizzies.
McCUE: Remember that fellow from the New
York World?
ENDICOTT: With the derby?
act i Cfye ^rortt page 37
MURPHY presumably mimicking a New York
journalisti Could you please instruct me where the
telegraph office is*? Makes a rude noise. You'll be
talking like that, Hildy.
HILDY: Yeah?
ENDICOTT: Which one of them sissy journals
are you going to work for?
HILDY: None of them! Who the hell wants to
work on a newspaper? A lot of crumby hoboes, full
of dandruff and bum gin they wheedle out of nigger
Aldermen.
MURPHY: That's what comes of stealing a cane.
ENDICOTT: What are you going in for—the
movies?
HILDY: I am not. Advertising business. One hun¬
dred and fifty smackers a week.
McCUE: Yeah?
ENDICOTT: One hundred and fifty whatl
SCHWARTZ a sneer: A hundred and fifty!
HILDY: Here's the contract. Hands it to McCue,
who starts to look through it. They crowd around
this remarkable document. I was just waiting to get
it down in black and white before I walked in and
told Walter I was through.
38 cfye 5ron* pcige act 1
McCUE with contract: Jesus, it is a hundred and
fifty!
WILSON: Was Walter sore4?
HILDY: The lousy snake-brain! The God damn
ungrateful ape! Called me a traitor, after ten years
of sweating my pants off for practically nothing.
Traitor to what? What did he or anybody else in
the newspaper business ever do for me except try
to make a bum out of me! Says "You can't quit
without notice!" What the hell does he think I am4?
A hired girl? Why, one more word and I'd have
busted his whiskey snout for him!
KRUGER: Why didn't you?
MURPHY: Who's going to cover the hanging
for the Examiner?
McCUE: Why the hell didn't you tell a fellow?
WILSON: Yeah—instead of waiting till the last
day?
HILDY: And have Walter hear about it? I've al¬
ways wanted to walk in and quit just like that! A
snap of the fingers. I been planning this for two
months—packed up everything yesterday, and so
did my girl! Furniture and all. The fire signal has
been sounding through the last few words. Hildy
looks up. Hey, fellows, that's Kedzie and Madison
ain't it? The Washington Irving School's out there.
act i Cfye £rortt page 39
MURPHY: Who the hell's in school this time of
night?
McCUE: What do you care, anyhow? You've quit.
HILDY laughs, chagrined: Just thought it might
be a good fire, that's all. Again the whirr and crash
of the gallows.
KRUGER: For Christ's sake! "At the window.
Ain't you got anything else to do? Hey! You
Jacobi!
BENSINGER: Hey, fellows. I'm trying to read.
WILSON also near window: They're changing the
guards down there. Look—they've got sixteen of
them. Voices come from the courtyard—"Hey!"
"Hurry up." "Get a move on, Carl!" etc.
McCUE hands back the contract: You're going to
miss a swell hanging, Hildy.
HILDY: Yeah? You can stick it.
MURPHY: So you're going into the advertising
business, eh? Writing poetry about Milady's draw¬
ers.
ENDICOTT: Going to wear an eye shade?
WILSON: I'll bet he has a desk with his name on
it, and a stenographer.
MURPHY: You'll be like a firehorse tied to a
milk wagon.
40 £fye £rortt page act i
ENDICOTT to Murphy: I don't know what gets
into these birds. Can you imagine punching a clock,
and sitting around talking like a lot of stuffed shirts
about statistics*?
HILDY: Yeah—sour grapes, that's all it is. Sour
grapes.
MURPHY: I got a dumb brother went in for busi¬
ness. He's got seven kids and a mortgage, and be¬
longs to a country club. He gets worse every year.
Just a fat-head.
HILDY: Listen to who's talking. Journalists!
Peeking through keyholes! Running after fire en¬
gines like a lot of coach dogs! Waking people up in
the middle of the night to ask them what they think
of Mussolini. Stealing pictures off old ladies of their
daughters that get raped in Oak Park. A lot of
lousy, daffy, buttinskis, swelling around with holes
in their pants, borrowing nickels from office boys!
And for what? So a million hired girls and motor-
men's wives'll know what's going on.
MURPHY: Your girl must have handed you that
line.
HILDY: I don't need anybody to tell me about
newspapers. I've been a newspaperman fifteen years.
A cross between a bootlegger and a whore. And if
you want to know something, you'll all end up on
act i tlfye £ront page 41
the copy desk—gray-headed, humpbacked slobs,
dodging garnishees when you're ninety.
SCHWARTZ: Yeah, and what about you*? How
long do you think you'll last in that floosie job4?
ENDICOTT: You'll get canned cold the minute
your contract's up, and then you'll be out in the
street.
KRUGER: Sure—that's what always happens.
HILDY: Well, it don't happen to me. And I'll tell
you why, if you want to know. Because my girl's
uncle owns the business, that's why.
WILSON: Has he got a lot of jack?
HILDY: It's choking him. You know what he sent
us for a wedding present?
MURPHY: A dozen doilies.
HILDY: I wouldn't tell you bums, because it's up
in high finance and you wouldn't understand it.
ENDICOTT: Probably gave you a lot of stock in
the company, that you can't sell.
KRUGER: I know them uncles.
HILDY: The hell he did! He gave us five hundred
in cash, that's what he gave us.
McCUE: Goon!
SCHWARTZ: There ain't five hundred in cash.
42 Cfyc £ront page, act i
HILDY: Yeah? Pulling out a roll. Well, there it
is—most of it, except what it costs to get to New
York.
McCUE: Jees, let's see.
HILDY: Oh, no!
MURPHY: How about a finif till tomorrow4?
HILDY mimicking an androgyne: I won't be here
tomorrow. And that reminds me. Takes out a little
book. It comes to—consults book—eight dollars and
sixty-five cents altogether, Jimmie. Eight dollars
and sixty-five cents.
MURPHY: What does'?
HILDY: That includes the four bucks in front of
the Planter's Hotel, when you were with that
waitress from King's.
MURPHY: I thought I paid that.
HILDY: No. Reading from notes: Herman Schlos-
ser . . . altogether twenty dollars and . . .
McCUE: Ha! Ha! Ha!
ENDICOTT: Ho! Ho! Ho!
HILDY: All right. I guess I might as well call it
off, all around. I should have known better than to
try to collect, anyhow. Tears out the 'page and
throws it at Murphy. You might say thanks.
MURPHY: Not after that waitress.
ACT I €t?e £ront page 43
SCHWARTZ: About that fifty bucks, Hildy. If
you want a note—
HILDY: What fifty bucks'? Aw, forget it.
SCHWARTZ: You see, it wasn't only the wife
taking sick, but then besides . . . Jennie, a slightly
idiotic scrubwoman, enters. She receives an ovation.
"Yea, Jennie I" "Jennie!" "Well, if it ain't Jennie"
all delivered in various dialects with intended com¬
edy effect.
KRUGER: I hear you just bought another apart¬
ment house, Jennie!
MURPHY: I hear you've fallen in love again,
Jennie!
JENNIE giggling: Can I wash up now, please?
BENSINGER: Yeah, for God's sake do! This
place smells like a monkey cage.
HILDY: Go on! You don't want to wash up on
a night like this! This is a holiday! I'm going away,
Jennie! Give us a kiss! He embraces her.
JENNIE squealing: Now you Hildy Johnson, you
keep away from me! I'll hit you with this mop! I
will!
HILDY tickling her: What's the matter? Ain't I
your fellow any more? I'll tell you what we'll do,
Jennie! You and I'll go around and say good-bye!
Everybody in the building!
44 ^rortt P<*9£ ACT 1
McCUE: Hey, the warden called you up! Wants
to see you before you go!
HILDY: There you are Jennie! We5re invited! He
invited Jennie, didn't he? You bet he did!
JENNIE: Now you know he didn't!
HILDY lifting pail of water: Only we can't carry
this all over! I know! At window. Hey! Jacobi!
Look! Throws water out. Jennie giggles hysterically.
VOICE off: Who did that?
SCHWARTZ: Better shut off them lights. Some¬
body's liable to come up.
HILDY to Jennie: Come on, Jennie! We'll say
good-bye to the warden! He embraces her again.
JENNIE struggling: No, no! You let go of me!
The warden'll be mad! He'll do something!
HILDY: To hell with him! I own this building!
Come on! pausing in the door: If my girl calls up,
tell her I'm on my way! Exits with Jennie, singing
"Waltz Me Around Again, JennieCoy screams
from Jennie, and the banging of a pail as it is
kicked down the corridor.
BENSINGER: Thank God thafs over!
KRUGER: What's the Examiner going to do with
Hildy off the job?
act i Cfye $vont page 45
WILSON: It must be great to walk into a place
and quit.
McCUE: Yeah. He moves sadly away and uses one
of the phones on the long table. Diversey three two
hundred.
ENDICOTT sentimentally: I got an offer from
the publicity department of the stock yards last
year. I shoulda took it.
SCHWARTZ: What I'd like would be a job on the
side.
McCUE a lump in his throat: A desk and a sten¬
ographer. That wouldn't be so bad. I wouldn't mind
a nice big blonde.
MURPHY outlining a voluptuous bust. WitK a
bozoom! Fhone on small table rings.
McCUE sighs, then into his own phone: Hello,
Sarge. McCue. Anything doing?
WILSON answering other phone: What's that?
His tone becomes slightly formal. Yes, Ma'am. .. .
No, Hildy ain't here just now, madam. He left a
message for you, though. . . . Why, he said he was
on his way. . . . No, he didn't say where—just that
he was on his way.... All right, I'll tell him, ma'am.
Hangs up. Oooh! Is she sore?
SCHWARTZ: Hildy oughtn't to do that. She's a
swell kid.
46 Cbc ^rortt page act i
McCUE into phone: All right! Thank you, Sarge!
Hangs up. A hundred and fifty bucks a week! Can
you imagine1?
KRUGER: Probably gets Saturdays and Sundays
off, too.
WILSON sadly: And Christmas.
McCUE: I wonder who Walter'll send over here
in Hildy's place. Mollie Malloy enters. She is a
North Clark Street tart, cheap black sateen dress,
red hat and red slippers run over at the heels. She is
a soiled and gaudy houri of the pavement. Despite
a baleful glare on Mollie's part, the boys brighten
visibly. They are always glad to see whores.
MURPHY warmly. Hello, Mollie!
ENDICOTT: Well, well! Nookie!
WILSON: Hello, kid! How's the old tomato-can?
McCUE feeling himself to be a Chauncey Olcott:
Shure, and how are yez, Mollie?
MOLLIE in a tired, banjo voice: I've been looking
for you bastards!
MURPHY: Going to pay a call on Williams?
SCHWARTZ: He's just across the courtyard!
KRLTGER: Better hurry up—he hasn't got all
night.
Act i €f?e 5vont page 47
McCUE: Yes, he has!
ENDICOTT formally: Say, Mollie, those were
pretty roses you sent Earl. What do you want done
with them tomorrow morning?
MOLLIE tensely: A lot of wise guys, ain't you?
Well, you know what I think of you—all of you.
MURPHY: Keep your pants on, Mollie.
MOLLIE to Murphy: If you was worth breaking
my fingernails on, I'd tear your puss wide open.
MURPHY: What you sore about, sweetheart?
Wasn't that a swell story we give you?
MOLLIE: You cheap crumbs have been making a
fool out of me long enough!
ENDICOTT: Now what kind of language is that?
BENSINGER: She oughtn't to be allowed in here!
I caught her using the drinking cup yesterday!
MOLLIE flaring: I never said I loved Earl Wil¬
liams and was willing to marry him on the gallows!
You made that up! And all that other crap about
my being his soul mate and having a love nest with
him!
McCUE: Well, didn't you?
ENDICOTT: You've been sucking around that
cuckoo ever since he's been in the death house!
Everybody knows you're his affinity!
48 ©je 5rorit page act i
MOLLIE blowing up: That's a lie! I met Mr.
Williams just once in my life, when he was wander¬
ing around in the rain without his hat and coat on
like a sick dog. The day before the shooting. And I
went up to him like any human being would and I
asked what was the matter, and he told me about
bein' fired after working at the same place twenty-
two years and I brought him up to my room because
it was warm there.
ENDICOTT: Did he have the two dollars?
MURPHY: Aw, put it on a Victrola.
MOLLIE: Just because you want to fill your lying
papers with a lot of dirty scandal, you got to crucify
him and make a bum out of me!
ENDICOTT: Got a match, Mollie?
MOLLIE heedless: I tell you he just sat there talk¬
ing to me . . . all night . . . just sat there talkin'
to me . . . and never once laid a hand on me! In the
morning he went away and I never saw him again
till the day at the trial!
ENDICOTT: Tell us what you told the jury!
They laugh reminiscently.
MOLLIE: Go on, laugh! God damn your greasy
souls! Sure I was his witness—the only one he had.
Yes, me! Mollie Malloy! A Clark Street tart! I
was the only one with guts enough to stand up for
act i tlfyc £rortt page 49
him! And that's why you're persecuting me! Be¬
cause he treated me decent, and not like an animal,
and I said so!
ENDICOTT: Why didn't you adopt him instead
of letting him run around shooting policemen'?
SCHWARTZ: Suppose that cop had been your own
brother*?
MOLLIE: I wish to God it had been one of you!
MURPHY finally irritated: Say, what's the idea
of this song and dance, anyhow? This is the press
room. We're busy.
SCHWARTZ: Go on home!
MURPHY: Go and see your boy friend, why don't
you4?
McCUE: Yeah—he's got a nice room.
ENDICOTT with a wink at the rest: He won't
have it long. He's left a call for seven a. m.
MOLLIE through her teeth: It's a wonder a bolt of
lightning don't come through the ceiling and strike
you all dead! Again the sound of the gallows.
What's that? Oh, my God! She begins to cry.
BENSINGER rising: Say, what's the idea?
MOLLIE: Talking that way about a fellow that's
going to die.
5° Cfye $rortt page act i
ENDICOTT uncomfortable at this show of grief:
Don't get hysterical.
MOLLIE sobbing: Shame on you! Shame on you!
McCUE to the rest: It wasn't my fault. I didn't
say anything.
MOLLIE hysterically: A poor little crazy fellow
that never did any harm. Sitting there alone this
minute, with the Angel of Death beside him, and
you cracking jokes.
MURPHY getting up meaningly: Listen, if you
don't shut up, I'll give you something good to cry
about!
MOLLIE savage: Keep your dirty hands off me!
MURPHY in a short and bitter struggle with her:
Outside, bum!
MOLLIE shooting through the door: You dirty
punks! Heels! Bastards! Exit.
MURPHY slams the door. A pause: The nervy
bitch!
McCUE: Whew!
MURPHY: You guys want to play some more
poker1?
ENDICOTT: What's the use*? I can't win a pot.
MURPHY: I'm the big loser.
act i Cfye $vont page 51
WILSON: Me too. I must be out three dollars,
anyhow.
ENDICOTT: It's God dam funny who's got it.
SCHWARTZ: Don't look at me. I started in with
five bucks, and I got two-eighty left.
McCUE who has taken up the phone again: Michi¬
gan eight thousand. Sheriff Hartman enters, briskly,
bitter words forming on his lips. He is a diabetic and
overwrought little fellow, an incompetent fuss bud¬
get. He has come to raise hell, but an ovation checks
him. Ah, Sheriffr "Hello, Pinky/" "How's the
old statesman ?" Bensinger puts down his book; Mc-
(2ue abandons his telephoning.
ENDICOTT: Any news, Sheriff?
SHERIFF briefly: Hello fellas. In another tone:
Now, who dumped that bucket of water out the
window?
KRUGER: What bucket of water?
SHERIFF: Who threw it out the window is what
I asked, and I want to know!
MURPHY: Judge Pam threw it out.
SHERIFF: I suppose Judge Pam threw that bot¬
tle!
ENDICOTT: Yeah. That was Judge Pam, too.
52 Cfyc 5ron* page ACT1
MURPHY: He was in here with his robes on,
playing fireman.
SHERIFF: Come on now, fellas, I know who it
was. Wheedling: It was Hildy Johnson, wasn't it?
Where is he?
McCUE: Out with a lady.
ENDICOTT: Hildy's quit, Sheriff. Didn't you
hear?
SHERIFF: Well, I'm glad of it. It's good rid¬
dance ! Now personally, I don't give a God dam, but
how do you suppose it looks to have a lot of hood¬
lums yelling and throwing things out of windows?
In a subdued voice: Besides there's somebody in that
death house. How do you suppose he feels, listen¬
ing to all this re-wZ-ery?
MURPHY: A hell of a lot you care how he feels!
SCHWARTZ: Keep your shirt on, Pinky.
SHERIFF: Wait a minute, you! I don't want to
hear any more of that Pinky stuff. I got a name, see?
Peter B. Hartman.
MURPHY: What's the matter with Pinky?
McCUE taking the cue: He's all right.
THE REPORTERS lustily: Who's all right?
SHERIFF desperate: Now stop! Whining: Honest,
act i tefye $vont page 53
boys, what's the idea of hanging a name like that
on me1? Pinky Hartman! How's that look to the
voters'? Like I had sore eyes or something.
MURPHY: You never heard of Bath-House John
kicking, did you?
WILSON: Or Hinky Dink4?
ENDICOTT: It's made you famous!
SHERIFF: I swear I don't know what to do about
you fellows. You abuse every privilege you get.
I got a damn good notion to take this press room
away from you.
MURPHY: That would be a break.
ENDICOTT: Yeah. The place is so full of cock¬
roaches you can't walk.
BENSINGER rising: Wait a minute, fellows. Now
listen, Pete, this is the last favor I'm ever going to
ask you, and it ain't me that's asking it. Get me1?
You know who's asking it—a certain party is asking
it. Once and for all, how about hanging this guy at
five o'clock instead of seven*? It ain't going to hurt
you and we can make the City Edition.
SHERIFF sincerely: Aw, now, Roy, that's kind of
raw. You can't hang a fella in his sleep, just to
please a newspaper.
MURPHY: No, but you can reprieve him twice
54 Cfye ^rorit page act i
so the hanging'11 come three days before election!
So yon can run on a law and order ticket! You can
do that all right!
SHERIFF: I had nothing whatsoever to do with
those reprieves. That was entirely up to the Gov¬
ernor.
ENDICOTT: And who told the Governor what to
do?
SCHWARTZ: How do we know there won't be
another reprieve to-night? For all I know I'm hang¬
ing around here for nothing! When I've got a sick
wife!
WILSON: Yeah, with another alienist getting
called in!
MURPHY: This Wop gooser!
SCHWARTZ: Sure—what's all that about? Sup¬
pose he finds he's insane or something?
SHERIFF: He won't find he's insane. Because he
isn't. This ruse of reading the Declaration of Inde¬
pendence day and night is pure fake. But I've got to
let this doctor see him, on account of his being sent
by these Personal Liberty people, or whatever they
call themselves. You and I know they're nothing
but a bunch of Bolsheviks, but a hanging is a seri¬
ous business. At a time like this you want to please
everybody.
act i Cfye 5ront page 55
ENDICOTT: Everybody that can vote, anyhow.
SHERIFF: Now he's going to look him over in my
office in a couple of minutes, and then you'll know
all about it. Besides, there's nothing he can find out,
Williams is as sane as I am.
SCHWARTZ: Saner!
SHERIFF: The hanging's going to come off ex¬
actly per schedule. And when I say "per schedule"
that means seven o'clock and not a minute earlier.
There's such a thing as being humane, you know.
BENSINGER: Just wait till you want a favor.
SHERIFF to change the subject: Now here are the
tickets. Two for each paper.
McCUE: What do you mean, two for each paper?
SHERIFF stung: What do you want to do—take
your family?
SCHWARTZ: Now listen, Pete. I promised a pair
to Ernie Byfield. He's never seen a hanging.
WILSON: The boss wants a couple for the adver¬
tising department.
SHERIFF passing out tickets: This ain't the "Fol¬
lies," you know. I'm tired of your editors using these
tickets to get advertising accounts.
ENDICOTT: You got a lot of nerve! Everybody
knows what you use 'em for—to get in socially.
56 Cfye $rortt Page act 1
MURPHY: He had the whole Union League Club
over here last time.
ENDICOTT: Trying to suck in with Chatfield—
Taylor. I suppose you'll wear a monocle tomorrow
morning.
SHERIFF melting: Now that ain't no way to talk,
boys. If any of you want a couple of extra tickets,
why I'll be more than glad to take care of you. Only
don't kill it.
SCHWARTZ: Now you're talking!
WILSON: That's more like it.
SHERIFF: Only you fellas got to lend a hand
with us once in a while. We got a big job on our
hands, smashing this Red menace—
ENDICOTT: We gave you four columns yester¬
day. What do you want?
SHERIFF always the boy for a speech: That ain't
it. The newspapers got to put their shoulders to the
wheel. They've got to forcibly impress on the Bolshe¬
viks that the death-warrant for Earl Williams is a
death-warrant for every bomb-throwing un-Ameri¬
can Red in this town. This hanging means more to
the people of Chicago to-day—To Murphy, who is
reading a comic supplement: This is a statement,
Jimmie. What's the matter with you?
MURPHY: Aw, go home.
act i ^rortt page 57
SHERIFF: All right, you'll just get scooped. Now
we're going to reform these Reds with a rope. That's
our slogan. Quote me if you want to: "Sheriff Hart-
man pledges that he is going to reform the Reds
with a rope."
ENDICOTT: Oh, for Christ's sake, Pinky! We've
been printing that chestnut for weeks! He goes into
the can.
SHERIFF: Well, print it once more, as a favor to
me.
WILSON: You don't have to worry about the elec¬
tion. You're as good as in now, with the nigger
vote coming around.
SHERIFF Lafayette, at least: I was never preju¬
diced against the Negro race in any shape, manner,
or form.
MURPHY: Are you still talking?
SHERIFF suddenly querulous: During the race
riots I just had to do my duty, that's all. And of
course I was misunderstood.
KRUGER: Go on! You're a Southern gentleman,
and you know it. Phone rings.
SHERIFF: Now, boys!
MURPHY: Shoah! In bogus Negro dialect: Massa
58 tEfye 5ron* ACT 1
Hartman, of the Vahginia Hartmans. Phone on
small table rings,. McCue heads for it.
ENDICOTT in the can, his voice rising above the
plumbing: I hear you used to own slaves.
SCHWARTZ answering phone: Press Room! Into
phone: Who1? Yeah, he's here. . . . For you,
Sheriff.
SHERIFF: Me? Into phone—very business-like:
Sheriff Hartman talking. ... An eagle falling out of
the clouds. Oh, hello, dear.
KRUGER: Sounds like the ball and chain.
SHERIFF: Why, no, I didn't figure on coming
home at all. . . . Well, you see on account of the
hanging being so early—
MURPHY: Tell her she's getting a break when
you don't go home.
SHERIFF winningly: But you see this is business,
dear. You don't think a hanging's any fun for me!
ENDICOTT : Music for this, Ernie!
SHERIFF agitatedly motions for silence: But I
have a whole lot to do first—getting things ready.
MURPHY: Why don't you take him out to your
house and hang him?
SHERIFF fish hooks in his pants: I'll call you up
act i Cfye 5ront page 59
later, Irma—I'm not in my own office, now. Be¬
sides, I've got to meet an alienist. . . . No—alienist.
No. Not for me. For Williams. Hildy re-enters,
bringing back Jennie1 s mop.
HILDY throwing the mop across the room: Boy,
we cleaned up!
SHERIFF hurriedly: I'll call you later, dear. He
hangs up; turns on Hildy: Now Johnson, what the
hell do you mean? Throwing things out of windows.
Who do you think you are? During the quieter mo¬
ments of the remainder of this act, Hildy is open¬
ing his parcels and putting the contents into his suit¬
case.
HILDY: Who wants to know?
SHERIFF: You think you and Walter Burns are
running this town! Well, I'm going to send a bill to
the Examiner tomorrow for all the wreckage that's
been committed around here in the past year! How
do you like that?
HILDY: I think that's swell! You know what else
you can do?
SHERIFF belligerently: What?
HILDY: Guess.
SHERIFF: You stick your nose in this building
tomorrow and I'll have you arrested!
6o Cfye ^torxt page ACT I
HILDY: It's damn near worth staying for!
SHERIFF: And I'll tell you another thing, and
you can pass it on to Walter Burns! The Examiner
don't get any tickets for this hanging after the lies
they been printing! You can make up your story
like you do everything else—out of whole cloth.
HILDY: Listen, you big pail of lard! If I wanted
to go to your God dam hanging I'd go! See? And sit
in a box!
SHERIFF: The hell you would!
HILDY: And I'd only have to tell half of what
I know, at that!
SHERIFF: You don't know anytYimg.
HILDY: No"? Tell me, Mr. Hartman, where'd
you spend the night before that last hanging! At the
Planter's Hotel with that librarian. Room Six Hun¬
dred and Two. And I got two bell boys and a night
manager to prove it!
SHERIFF: If I didn't have to go and see that
alienist I'd tell you a few things. Exits.
HILDY calling after him: And if I were you I'd
get two tickets for the hanging over to Walter
Burns pretty fast, or he's liable to come over here
and stick a firecracker in your pants!
act i dlv ^vont page 61
WILSON: Hey! Hildy! Your girl called up.
HILDY stricken: My girl"? When? Starts for the
telephone.
WILSON: Just after you went out. And if you
take my advice, you'll call her back.
HILDY: Jesus! Why didn't you tell a fellow!
Woodenshoes re-enters with sandwiches and a bottle
of ketchup.
McCUE: Yea! Sandwiches!
HILDY at phone: Edgewater two-one-six-four.
To the rest: Was she mad at me?
McCUE: Did you bring the ketchup? They are
crowding about Woodenshoes.
BENSINGER: How about my plain lettuce?
ENDICOTT: A hamburger for me!
SCHWARTZ: I ordered one, didn't I?
KRUGER: You did not! This way, Woodenshoes!
They are taking their sandwiches from Wooden-
shoes—Endicott tosses one at Kruger.
HILDY into phone: Hello, Peggy? . . . Hello. . . .
His voice becomes romantic.
McCUE: Attaboy! God, I'm starved.
HILDY into phone: Why, darling, what's the
matter?
62 Cfye $rortt page act i
BENSINGER: For God's sake, I said gluten
bread.
HILDY into phone: But there isn't anything to cry
about.
MURPHY: The service is getting terrible around
here.
HILDY into phone: But listen, darling! I had
business to attend to. I'll tell you all about it the
minute I see you . . . Aw, darling, I just dropped in
here for one second. . . . Because I had to. I couldn't
go away without saying good-bye to the fellows.
To the others: Will you guys talk or something1?
Back to phone: But listen! Sweetheart!... Yes,
I... Of course I handed in my resignation ... Yes,
I've got a taxi waiting . . . Right outside.
WOODENSHOES uneasily: Go easy on that
ketchup. I'm responsible for that.
HILDY into phone: I've got them right in my
pocket, honey . . . Three on the eleven-eighteen.
I'm bringing 'em right out, mile a minute.
WOODENSHOES: She says you fellows have got
to pay something soon.
HILDY into phone: Aw, darling, if you talk like
that I'm going to go right out and jump in the lake.
I swear I will, because I can't stand it. Listen! He
looks around to see if it is safe to continue.
act i tEfye ^ront page 63
KRUGER: We're listening.
HILDY trying to lower his voice. With his mouth
pasted to the mouthpiece, the following speeches
are gargled into phone: Darling ... I love you.
Appropriate music by Kruger. I said ... I love
you. Music again.
SCHWARTZ: Aw, give him a break, Ernie.
Kruger stops playing.
HILDY into phone: That's more like it.
WOODENSHOES: Are you finished with this4?
Reaching for ketchup.
McCUE operating the bottle: No.
HILDY into phone: Feel better now? . . . Well,
smile. And say something . . .You know what I
want to hear.
SCHWARTZ a Cinderella: Give me a half a one,
somebody!
ENDICOTT: Nothing doing.
HILDY into the phone: That's the stuff. That's
better . . . Are you all packed1? . . . Oh, swell. . .
I'll be right there.
WOODENSHOES: You fellas ought to pay her
a little something on account. Exits.
WILSON answering Examiner phone: What do
you want?
64 £fye 5ront page act i
HILDY: Listen, darling, will you wear that little
blue straw hat?
WILSON into phone: Wait a minute—I'll see.
HILDY into phone: And are you all happy now?
... I bet you're not as happy as I am. Oh, I'll bet
you anything you want . . . All right . . . All
right . . . I'm on my way ... Not more than
fifteen minutes. Really this time . . . Bye. Hangs
up.
WILSON his hand over the mouthpiece: Jesus
Christ, Hildy—here's Walter again! Tell him to
give us a rest, will you?
HILDY: Oh, bollacks! Into phone: You're just
making a God damn nuisance of yourself! . . .
What's the idea of calling up all the time! . . .
No! I'm through with newspapers! I don't give a
God-damn what you think of me! I'm leaving for
New York tonight! Right now! This minute!
Hangs up. Phone rings again. He tears it from the
wall and throws it out the window.
KRUGER calmly: Wrong number.
McCUE nervous: For God's sake, Hildy.
SCHWARTZ putting out the lights: You'll get us
in a hell of a jam!
BENSINGER: Haven't you got any sense?
act i CIje ^rortt page 65
HILDY yelling out the window: Tell Pinky to
stick that among his souvenirs! To the rest: If that
lunatic calls up again tell him to put it in writing
and mail it to Hildebrand Johnson, care of the
Waterbury-Adams Corporation, Seven Thirty-five
Fifth Avenue, New York City . . .
MURPHY: Put it on the wall, Mike.
ENDICOTT going to the rear wall: Waterbury
what*?
McCUE: Adams.
HILDY opening a parcel and showing a pale pair
of qloves: How do you like those onions? Marshall
Field!
McCUE: Very individual.
HILDY: Where's my cane?
ENDICOTT: What cane?
HILDY suddenly desperate: Come now, fellas.
That ain't funny, who's got my cane?
MURPHY in a Central Office manner: Can you
describe this cane?
HILDY frantic: Aw, for God's sake! Now listen,
fellas—
KRUGER solicitous: Are you sure you had it with
you when you came into the room?
66 Cfye £rortt page act i
WILSON: Was there any writing on it?
HILDY diving into Bensinger s desk: Come on!
Cut the clowning! Where is it?
BENSINGER: Keep out of my desk! Of all the
God-damn kindergartens!
HILDY: Jesus! I only got fifteen minutes. Now,
cut the kidding! My God, you fellows have got a
sense of humor!
MURPHY: Aw, give him his fairy wand!
ENDICOTT a JJranian for the moment, he pro¬
duces cane from trouser leg: Here it is, Gladys.
HILDY: God! You had me worried. He picks up
his suitcase. Bravura: Well, goodbye, you lousy
wage slaves! When you're crawling up fire escapes,
and getting kicked out of front doors, and eating
Christmas dinner in a one-armed joint, don't forget
your old pal, Hildy Johnson!
ENDICOTT: Good-bye, Yonson.
McCUE: So long, Hildy.
MURPHY: Send us a postcard, you big stewbum.
KRUGER: When'll we see you again, Hildy?
HILDY: The next time you see me I'll be riding
in a Rolls-Royce, giving out interviews on success-y.
BENSINGER: Good-bye, Hildy.
ACT i fEfye 5ron* pcigc 67
WILSON: Good-bye.
SCHWARTZ: Take care of yourself.
HILDY: So long, fellows! He strikes a Sidney
Carton -pose in the doorway; starts on a bit of verse:
"And as the road beyond unfolds"—He is inter¬
rupted by a terrific fusillade of shots from the
courtyard. A roar of voices comes up from the jail
yard. For a tense second everyone is motionless.
VOICES in the courtyard: Get the riot guns!
Spread out, you guys! Another volley.
WILSON: There's a jail break!
MURPHY at window, simultaneously: Jacobi!
What's the matter1? What's happened*?
VOICES in the jail yard: Watch the gate! He's
probably trying the gate! A huge siren begins to
wail.
SCHWARTZ out the window: Who got away?
Who was it*?
VOICE outside: Earl . . . Williams!!!
THE REPORTERS: Who? Who'd he say? Earl
Williams! It was Earl Williams! He got away!
McCUE: Holy God! Gimme that telephone! He
works hook frantically. Hurry! Hurry up! Will
you! This is important. Others are springing for the
tEIjc ^ront page act i
telephones as searchlights sweep the windows from
the direction of the jail.
SCHWARTZ: Jeez, this is gonna make a bum out
of the Sheriff! Hildy stands paralyzed, his suitcase
in his hand. There is a second rifle volley. Two win¬
dow panes crash within the room. Some plaster falls.
Gongs sound above the siren.
McCUE screaming: Look out!
MURPHY out of the window: Where you shoot¬
ing, you God-damn fools! For Christ's sake! An¬
other pane goes. Look out where you're aiming, will
you!
SCHWARTZ: There's some phones in the state's
attorney's office!
KRUGER! Yeah! There is a general panic at the
door. The Reporters leave as if a bomb had broken
in a trench. Hildy is left alone, still holding his
suitcase. It falls. He moves back into the room, ab¬
sently trailing a chair. Another shot.
HILDY: Ahh, Jesus Christ! He lets go of the
chair and takes one of the telephones. Examiner?
Gimme Walter Burns! Quick! Very calmly he sits
on one of the long tables, his back against the wall.
Then, quietly: Hello, Walter! Hildy Johnson! For¬
get that! Earl Williams just lammed out of the
act i Cfje £rortt page 69
County Jail! Yep . . . yep . . . yep . . . don't
worry! I'm on the job! There is a third volley.
Hildy sails his hat and coat into a corner and is
removing his overcoat as
THE CURTAIN FALLS.
ACT II
The Scene is the same as Act I—It is twenty min¬
utes later. Searchlights play outside the windows.
Jennie, the scrubwoman, is on stage, sweeping up
broken glass and doing a little miscellaneous clean¬
ing. Woodenshoes enters.
WOODENSHOES: Where are all the reporters?
Out looking for him?
JENNIE: They broke all the windows. And pulled
off a telephone. Aiiy, those newspaper fellows.
They're worse'n anything.
WOODENSHOES: There wasn't any excuse for
his escaping. This sort of thing couldn't ever hap¬
pen, if they listened to me.
JENNIE: Oooh, they'll catch him. Those big
lights.
WOODENSHOES: What good will that do So¬
ciety? The time to catch 'em is while they're little
kids. That's the whole basis of my crime prevention
theory. It's all going to be written up in the papers
soon.
JENNIE: Ooooh, what they print in the papers.
I never seen anything like it. She is sweeping. Endi-
cott enters and makes for a phone. Woodenshoes
watches him.
72 Cfye $ront page act ii
WOODENSHOES: Has anything happened, Mr.
Endicott?
ENDICOTT into phone: Endicott calling. Gimme
a rewrite man.
WOODENSHOES: You know, this would be just
the right time for you to print my theory of crime
prevention, that you said you were going to. Pull¬
ing out a sheaf of documents.
ENDICOTT into phone, waving him off as if he
were a horse fly: Well, hurry it up.
WOODENSHOES: Now here I got the city split
up in districts. I got them marked in red.
ENDICOTT: What*? For God's sake, can't you
see I'm— into phone: Hello! Gill4?
WOODENSHOES: But you been promising me
you'd—
ENDICOTT snatches papers: All right—I'll take
it home and study it. Now for God's sake stop an¬
noying me—I got to work! I can't sit around listen¬
ing to you! Get out of here and stop bothering me!
Back to phone: Ready, Gill? . . . Now, here's the
situation so far.
WOODENSHOES to Jennie: He's going to take it
home and study it. You'll see it in the paper before
long. Exits.
act ii Cfye £ront page 73
ENDICOTT into phone: Right! ... At ten min¬
utes after nine Williams was taken to the Sheriff's
private office to be examined by this Professor
Eglehofer, and a few minutes later he shot his way
out . . . No—nobody knows where he got the gun.
Or if they do they won't tell . . . Yeah . . . Yeah
. . . He run up eight flights of stairs to the infir¬
mary, and got out through the sky-light. He must
have slid down the rainpipe to the street . . . Yeah
. . . No, I tell you nobody knows where he got it.
I got hold of Jacobi, but he won't talk. Murphy
enters.
MURPHY crossing to phone: Outside, Jennie!
Outside!
ENDICOTT: They're throwing a dragnet around
the whole North Side. Watching the railroads and
Red headquarters. The Chief of Police has ordered
out every copper on the force and says they'll get
Williams before morning.
MURPHY into phone: Hello, sweetheart. Give
me the desk, will you?
ENDICOTT into phone, after a final look at his
notes: The Crime Commission has offered a reward
of ten thousand dollars for his capture . . . Yeah.
I'm going to try to get hold of Eglehofer. He knows
what's happened, if I can find him. Call you back.
Hangs up and exits swiftly.
74 ^rorit page act ii
MURPHY: For Chris' sake, Jennie! Every time
we turn our backs you start that God-damn sweep¬
ing.
JENNIE picking up her traps: All right. Only it's
dirty. I get scolded.
MURPHY into phone: Murphy talking . . . No
clue yet as to Earl Williams' whereabouts. Here's
a little feature, though. ... A tear bomb . . . tear
bomb . . . criminals cry for it . . . Sheriff Hartman
appears in the doorway. He has been running
around, shouting a million orders, nervous, be¬
witched and sweating like a June bride. He is in his
shirt sleeves, and his diamond-studded badge of
office is visible.
MURPHY into phone: Yeh! Tear bomb.
SHERIFF as he enters, speaking to someone in the
corridor: To hell with the Mayor! If he wants me
he knows where I am.
MURPHY into phone: A tear bomb went off un¬
expectedly in the hands of Sheriff Hartman's bomb¬
ing squad.
SHERIFF stunned: What went off?
MURPHY into phone: The following deputy
sheriffs were rushed to Passavant Hospital: . . .
SHERIFF: A fine fair-weather friend you are!
act ii tlfye ^rorxt Page 75
MURPHY remorselessly, into phone: Philip Lust-
garten . . .
SHERIFF: After all I've done for you!
MURPHY phoning: Herman Waldstein . . .
SHERIFF: Putting stuff like that in the papers!
MURPHY phoning: Sidney Matsburg . . .
SHERIFF: That's gratitude for you! He exits.
MURPHY phoning: Henry Koo . . .
JENNIE going toward door: Ain't that terrible?
Kruger enters and goes to a phone.
MURPHY phoning: Abe Lefkowitz . . .
JENNIE: All those fellows! Exits.
KRUGER at his phone: Give me rewrite.
MURPHY phoning: And William Gilhooly. Call
you back. Hangs up and exits.
KRUGER into phone: Ready"? ... A man cor¬
responding to Earl Williams' description was seen
boarding a southbound Cottage Grove Avenue car
at Austen Avenue by Motorman Julius L. Roose¬
velt. McCue enters. Yeah—Roosevelt. I thought
it would make a good feature on account of the
name.
McCUE phoning: McCue talking. Give me the
desk.
76 5ron* page ACT II
KRUGER phoning: All right, I'll go right after it.
Call you back. Exits.
McCUE into phone: Hello. Is that you, Emil? Are
you ready? . . . Sidelights on the man hunt. . . Mrs.
Irma Schlogel, fifty-five, scrublady, was shot in the
left leg while at work scrubbing the eighth floor of
the Wrigley Building by one of Sheriff Hartman's
special deputies. There is a fusillade of shots in the
distance. Hildy Johnson enters.
HILDY: There goes another scrublady. Goes to
phone, but starts arranging notes.
McCUE phoning: No, just a flesh wound. They
took her to Passavant Hospital. Hangs up. To
Hildy: Any dope on how he got out?
HILDY: From all I can get they were playing
leap frog.
McCUE: How about Jacobi? Did he say anything
to you?
HILDY: Not a word. McCue goes. Hildy quickly
picks up his receiver. Gimme Walter Burns. He gets
up and closes the door carefully; comes back to his
phone. Walter? Say, listen. I got the whole story
from Jacobi and I got it exclusive . . . That's right,
and it's a pip. Only listen. It cost me two hundred
and sixty bucks, see? . . . Just a minute—I'll give
you the story. I'm telling you first I had to give him
act ii Cfyc ^rortt page 77
all the money I had on me and it wasn't exactly
mine. Two hundred and sixty bucks, and I want it
back. Yells. Well, did you hear what I said about
the money"? . . . All right, then here's your story. It's
the jail break of your dreams . . . Dr. Max J. Egle-
hofer, a profound thinker from Vienna, was giving
Williams a final sanity test in the Sheriff's office—
you know, sticking a lot of pins in him to get his
reflexes. Then he decided to re-enact the crime ex¬
actly as it had taken place, so as to study Williams'
powers of co-ordination. . . . Well, I'm coming to
it, God damn it. Will you shut up? ... Of course
he had to have a gun to re-enact with. And who do
you suppose supplied it? . . . Peter B. Hartman . . .
"B" for brains. ... I tell you, I'm not kidding.
Hartman gave his gun to the Professor, the Profes¬
sor gave it to Earl, and Earl shot the professor right
in the belly . . . Ain't it perfect? If the Sheriff had
unrolled a red carpet like at a Polish wedding and
loaned Williams an umbrella, it couldn't have been
more ideal . . . Eglehofer? No, not bad. They
spirited him away to Passavant Hospital . . . No,
we got it exclusive. Now listen, Walter. It cost me
two hundred and sixty bucks for this story, and I
want it back ... I had to give it to Jacobi before
he'd cough up his guts. Two hundred and sixty
dollars—the money I'm going to get married on . . .
Never mind about fine work—I want the money . ..
78 Cfye 5ron* Pa($e ACT 11
No, I tell you, I'm not going to cover anything else
—I'm going away. "Peggy appears in the doorway.
She is a pretty girl of twenty. Hildy has his back
to the door. Listen, you lousy stiff. I just did this
as a personal favor. Now I'm leaving town and
I gave Jacobi every cent I got, and I want it back
right away! . . . When will you send it over? . . .
Well, see that you do or I can't get married! . . .
All right, and tell him to run. I'll be waiting right
here in the Press—He hangs up and sees Peggy.
With a guilty start: Hello, Peggy.
PEGGY: What was that, over the telephone
HILDY: Nothing. I was just telling Walter Burns
I was all through, that's all. Hello, darling.
Peggy, despite her youth and simplicity, seems
overwhelmingly mature in comparison to Hildy. As
a matter of fact, Peggy belongs to that division of
womanhood which dedicates itself to suppressing
in its lovers or husbands the spirit of D'Artagnan,
Roland, Captain Kidd, Cyrano, Don Quixote, King
Arthur or any other type of the male innocent and
rampant. In her unconscious and highly noble
efforts to make what the female world calls "a man"
out of Hildy, Peggy has neither the sympathy nor
acclaim of the authors yet—regarded superficially,
she is a very sweet and satisfying heroine.
act ii Cfye 5ront page 79
PEGGY: You haven't done something foolish with
that money? Our money!
HILDY: No. No!
PEGGY: You still have got the rest of it?
HILDY: Of course. Gee, darling, you don't think
for a minute—
PEGGY: I think I'd better take care of it from
now on!
HILDY: Now listen, honey, I can look after a
couple of hundred dollars all right. . . .
PEGGY: Hildy, if you've still got that money I
want you to give it to me.
HILDY: Now, sweetheart, it's going to be per¬
fectly all right... .
PEGGY she divines, alas, her lover's failing: Then
you haven't got it.
HILDY: Not—this minute, but I—
PEGGY: You did do something with it!
HILDY: No, no. He's sending it right over—
Walter, I mean. It'll be here any minute.
PEGGY her vocabulary is reduced to a coal of fire:
Oh, Hildy!
HILDY a preposterous fellow: Listen, darling, I
wouldn't have had this happen for the world. But
So Cfye $vont page act ii
it's going to be all right. Now here's what hap¬
pened: I was just starting out to the house to get
you when this guy Williams broke out of jail. You
know, the fellow they were going to hang in the
morning.
PEGGY intolerant of the antics of the Cyrano sex:
Yes, I know.
HILDY: Ah now, listen, sweetheart, I had to do
what I did. And—and the same th;ng when it came
to the money—She turns away. Peggy! Now listen.
I shouldn't tell you this, but I haven't got any
secrets from you. Do you know how this guy es¬
caped? He was down in the Sheriff's office when
Hartman—that's the Sheriff—and Eglehofer—
that's this fellow from Vienna—
PEGGY: Hildy!
HILDY: Aw, now I can't tell you if you won't
listen. I had to give him the money so he wouldn't
give the story to anybody else. Jacobi, I mean.
That's the assistant warden. I got the story exclusive
—the biggest scoop in years, I'll bet.
PEGGY: Do you know how long mother and I
waited, out at that house4?
HILDY: Aw, Peggy, listen. You ain't going to
be mad at me for this. I couldn't help it. You'd
have done the same thing yourself. I mean, the big-
act ii £f)e £rcnt page 81
gest story in the world busting, and nobody on the
job.
PEGGY: I might have known it would happen
again.
HILDY: Aw, listen—
PEGGY: Every time I've ever wanted you for
something—on my birthday, and New Year's Eve,
when I waited till five in the morning—
HILDY: But a big story broke; don't you re¬
member.
PEGGY: It's always a big story—the biggest story
in the world, and the next day everybody's for¬
gotten it, even you!
HILDY: What do you mean forgotten1? That was
the Clara Hamon murder—on your birthday. Now
for God's sake, Peggy, it won't hurt to wait five
more minutes. The boy's on his way with the
money now.
PEGGY: Mother's sitting downstairs waiting in a
taxicab. I'm just ashamed to face her, the way
you've been acting. If she knew about that money—
it's all we've got in the world, Hildy. We haven't
even got a place to sleep in, except the train, and—
HILDY: Aw, gee, I wouldn't do anything in the
world to hurt you, Peggy. You make me feel like
a criminal.
82 Cfye 5rortt page act h
PEGGY: It's all that Walter Burns. Oh, I'll be so
glad when I get you away from him.—You simply
can't resist him.
HILDY: For God's sake, Peggy, I've told you
what I think of him. I wouldn't raise a finger if he
was dying. Honest to God.
PEGGY: Then why did you loan him the money ?
HILDY: I didn't! You see, you won't listen to me,
or you'd know I didn't. Now, listen. I had to give
the money to Jacobi, the assistant—Woodenshoes
ushers in Mrs. Grant. Mrs. Grant is a confused little
widow who has tried her best to adjust her mind to
Hildy as a son-in-law.
WOODENSHOES: Here they are, Ma'am. Exits
immediately.
HILDY: Oh, hello, Mrs. Grant—mother. I was
just explaining to Peggy—
PEGGY: Mother, I thought you were going to
wait in the cab.
MRS. GRANT a querulous yet practical soul:
Well, I just came up to tell you the meter's gone to
two dollars.
HILDY: Yeah, sure. But that's all right. . . .
MRS. GRANT with the wandering egoism of age:
I had a terrible time finding you. First I went into
a room where a lot of policemen were playing cards.
act ii Cfye ^rortt page 83
HILDY: Yeah—that was—now, I'll tell you what
we'll do.
MRS. GRANT: Then I met that policeman and I
asked him where Mr. Johnson's office was, and he
brought me here.
PEGGY: Now, listen mother, I think you'd better
go down stairs and we'll come as soon as we can.
MRS. GRANT inspecting: You've got a big room,
haven't you? Where do you sit?
HILDY: Now, I tell you what you do. You and
Peggy go on over to the station and get the baggage
checked . . . now here's the tickets.
PEGGY: Now, Hildy.
HILDY: I'll be along in fifteen minutes—maybe
sooner.
MRS. GRANT: How do you mean—that you
aren't going?
HILDY: Of course I am. Now, I'll meet you at
the Information Booth—
PEGGY: Come, mother. Hildy has to wait here a
few minutes. It's something to do with the office
—he's getting some money.
MRS. GRANT on familiar ground: Money?
HILDY: Yeah—they're sending over—it's my
salary. They're sending over my salary.
84 Cfye 5ron* P<*ge ACT 11
MRS. GRANT the voice of womankind: Your
salary? At this hour?
HILDY: They were awful busy, and I couldn't
disturb them very well.
MRS. GRANT: The trouble is you're too easy
with people—letting them wait till this hour before
paying you your salary. How do you know they'll
give it to you at all?
PEGGY: Mother, we'll go on over. Hildy'll be
along.
MRS. GRANT: Do you know what I'm beginning
to think?
HILDY apprehensive: What?
MRS. GRANT: I think you must be a sort of
irresponsible type or you wouldn't do things this
way. It's just occurred to me you didn't do one
blessed thing to help our getting away.
PEGGY: Now you stop picking on my Hildy,
mother.
MRS. GRANT: Why, I had to sublet the apart¬
ment, and pack all the wedding presents—McCue
enters. Goes to phone, with side glances at the
others—why, that's work a man ought to do. You
weren't even there to put things in the taxi—I had
to give the man fifty cents. And now here you are
standing here with the train leaving any minute—
act ii Cfye $vont page 85
HILDY: Now, mother, I never missed a train in
my life. You run along with Peggy—
McCUE into phone: Hello. McCue talking.
PEGGY: Come on, mother. We're disturbing
people.
HILDY: This is my girl, Mac, and her mother.
Mr. McCue.
McCUE tipping his hat: Pleased to meet you. Into
phone: Here's a hell of a swell feature on the man
hunt. To the ladies: Excuse my French! Into phone:
Mrs. Phoebe De Wolfe, eight-sixty-one and a half
South State Street, colored, gave birth to a pick¬
aninny in a patrol wagon, with Sheriff Hartman's
special Rifle Squad acting as mid-wives.
MRS. GRANT: Mercy!
McCUE pleased at having interested her: You
ought-a have seen 'em, ma'am.
PEGGY: Come on, mother.
HILDY: Listen, mother, you better run along. I'll
put my suitcase in the cab.
McCUE phoning: Well Phoebe was walking along
the street when all of a sudden she began having
labor pains. No! Labor Pains! Didn't you ever have
labor pains'? Righto! She was hollering for her hus¬
band, who's been missing for five months, when the
86 Cfye £ront page act it
police seen her. And Deputy Henry Shereson, who's
a married man, saw what her condition was. So he
coaxed her into the patrol wagon and they started
a race with the stork for Passavant Hospital.
HILDY to McCue, as he goes out: If a boy comes
here for me hold him. I'll be right back! They are
gone.
McCUE into phone: Listen—when the pickaninny
was born the Rifle Squad examined him carefully to
see if it was Earl Williams, who they knew was
hiding somewhere. Laughs at his own joke. They
named him Peter Hartman De Wolfe in honor of
the Sheriff, and they all chipped in a dollar a piece
on account of it being the first baby ever born in a
man hunt. The Mayor enters. Wait a minute—
here's the Mayor himself. Maybe there's a state¬
ment. Under ordinary circumstances the Mayor is
a bland, unruffled soul, full of ease and confidence;
a bit stupid, walking as if he were on snowshoes and
carrying an unlighted cigar with which he gestures
as if it were a wand. The events of the last hour
have unhinged him. He is eager for news—even the
worst.
MAYOR: Don't pester me now, please. I got a lot
on my mind.
McCUE into phone: The Mayor won't say any¬
thing. He hangs up.
ACT ii Cfye ^ront page 87
MAYOR: Have you seen Sheriff Hartman?
McCUE: Been in and out all night, your Honor . . .
Murphy and Endicott enter.
MURPHY: Now listen, your Honor. We've got
to have a statement. . . .
ENDICOTT: We go to press in twenty minutes.
MAYOR:I can't help that boys. I have nothing to
say—not at this time;
MURPHY: What do you mean—"not at this
time*?" Who do you think you are, Abraham
Lincoln?
ENDICOTT: Come on, cut the statesman stuff!
What do you know about the escape*? How'd he get
out?
MURPHY: Where'd he get the gun?
MAYOR: Wait a minute, boys . . . Not so fast!
ENDICOTT: Well, give us a statement on the
election, then.
MURPHY: What effect's all this going to have
on the colored voters?
MAYOR: Not an iota. In what way can an un¬
avoidable misfortune of this sort influence the duty
of every citizen, colored or otherwise?
88 Cfyc $xoxxt page act h
MURPHY: Bologny
ENDICOTT: Listen here, Mayor. Is there a Red
Menace or ain't there ? and how did he get out of
that rubber jail of yours?
McCUE: Are you going to stand the gaff, Mayor?
Or have you picked out somebody that's responsi¬
ble?
MURPHY innocently: Any truth in the report
that you're on Trotsky's pay roll?
ENDICOTT: Yeah—the Senator claims you sleep
in red underwear.
MAYOR: Never mind the jokes. Don't forget that
I'm Mayor of this town and that the dignity of my
office . . . Hartman enters—the Mayor turns ab¬
ruptly on him. Hartman! I've been looking for
you. . . .
ENDICOTT leaping at the Sheriff: What's the
dope, Pinkie? How did he get out?
McCUE: What was he doing in your office?
MURPHY: What's this about somebody gettin'
shot?
ENDICOTT: Where did he get the gun?
SHERIFF jotting notes on a piece of paper with
the hope that he will seem busy. Just a minute,
fellas.
act ii ^rortt page 89
MURPHY: For God's sake, cut the stallin'! Who
engineered the get-away4?
ENDICOTT: Was it the Reds?
SHERIFF: Just a minute, I tell you. We've got
him located!
MURPHY: Who? Williams!
ENDICOTT: Where?!
McCUE: Where is he?
SHERIFF: Out to the place where he used to
live ... on Clark Street. . . Just got the tip.
ENDICOTT: Holy God!
McCUE: Why didn't you say so?
SHERIFF: The Rifle Squad is just going out.
ENDICOTT: Where are they?
SHERIFF: Downstairs. All the boys are with
them.
MURPHY: For the love of God! Murphy, En-
dicott and McCue rush out.
ENDICOTT in the hall: Hey, there, Charlie!
SHERIFF calling into the corridor: Report to me,
Charlie, the minute you get there! I'll be in the
building!
MAYOR: Pete, I want to talk to you!
9° Cfye £ront Pa$c act ii
SHERIFF: I ain't got time, Fred—honest. I'll see
you after.
MAYOR: Pete, there's one thing I've got to know.
Did you yourself actually give Williams that gun?
SHERIFF wailing: The Professor asked me for it.
I didn't know what he wanted it for. I thought it
was something scientific.
MAYOR: Now listen, Fred—Kruger enters, whis¬
tling. Both statesmen become silent and self-con¬
scious.
KRUGER heading for phone: Hello, your Honor.
Any statement on the Red uprising tomorrow*?
MAYOR: What Red uprising?
SHERIFF: There'll be no Red uprising!
KRUGER: The Senator claims the situation calls
for the militia.
MAYOR: You can quote me as saying that any¬
thing the Senator says is a tissue of lies.
KRUGER at phone: Kruger calling.
SHERIFF: Why aren't you with the Rifle Squad?
They've just gone out.
KRUGER: We've got a man with them. Into
phone: Here's a red-hot statement from the Senator.
ACT ii Cfye 5ron* pctge 91
Ready? . . . He says the City Hall is another
Augean stables ... Augean! . . . Oh, for God's sake!
Turns. He don't know what Augean means.
MAYOR: The Senator don't know either.
KRUGER: Well, take the rest, anyhow. Into
phone: The Senator claims that the Mayor and the
Sheriff have shown themselves to be a couple of
eight-year-olds playing with fire. Then this is quote:
"It is a lucky thing for the city that next Tuesday
is Election Day, as the citizens will thus be saved
the expense of impeaching the Mayor and the
Sheriff." That's all—call you back. Hangs up. How
are you, Mayor"? Exits, whistling.
MAYOR closing the door: I've got a mighty un¬
pleasant task to perform, Pete—
SHERIFF beside himself: Now listen, Fred,
you're just gonna get me rattled.
MAYOR inexorably: Two years ago we almost
lost the colored vote on account of that coon story
you told at the Dixie Marching Club . . . Mandy
and the traveling salesman. . . .
SHERIFF: Why harp on that noiv% . . .
MAYOR: Now you come along with another one
of your moron blunders. . . . The worst of your
whole career.
SHERIFF frantic: Listen, Fred. Stop worrying,
92 Cfye ^rorit Page act H
will you? Just do me a favor and stop worrying!
I'm doing everything on God's green earth! I've just
sworn in four hundred deputies!
MAYOR: Four hundred! Do you want to bankrupt
this administration?
SHERIFF pleadingly: I'm getting them for twelve
dollars a night.
MAYOR: Twelve dollars—! For those God damn
uncles of yours? What do you think this is—Christ¬
mas Eve?
SHERIFF with dignity: If you're talking about
my brother-in-law, he's worked for the city fifteen
years.
MAYOR bitterly: I know. Getting up fake tag
days! . . . Pete, you're through!
SHERIFF stunned: What do you mean—through?
MAY OR: I mean I'm scratching your name off the
ticket Tuesday and running Czernecki in your place.
It's nothing personal. . . . And Pete—it's the only
way out. It's a sacrifice we all ought to be glad to
make.
SHERIFF David to Jonathan: Fred!
MAYOR: Now, Pete! Please don't appeai to my
sentimental side. . . .
SHERIFF: Fred, I don't know what to say. A
act ii CISvont page 93
thing like this almost destroys a man's faith in hu¬
man nature. . . .
MAYOR: I wish you wouldn't talk like that,
Pete. . . .
SHERIFF: Our families, Fred. My God, I've al¬
ways looked on Bessie as my own sister.
MAYOR wavering and desperate: If there was any
way out . . .
SHERIFF as a phone rings: There is a way out.
I've got this Williams surrounded, haven't I? What
more do you want4? Now if you just give me a couple
of hours—into phone: Hello. . . . Yes. . . . Hello!
Wildly: Four hundred suppers! Nothing doing!
This is a man hunt—not a banquet! . . . The twelve
dollars includes everything! . . . Well, the hell with
them! Earl Williams ain't eating, is he*?! He hangs
up. That gives you an idea of what I'm up against!
MAYOR, hotly: We're up against a lot more than
that with that nutty slogan you invented. "Reform
the Reds with a rope." Sheriff winces. There ain't
any God damn Reds and you know it!
SHERIFF: Yeah, but why go into that now, Fred?
MAYOR: The slogan I had was all we needed to
win—"Keep King George Out of Chicago!"
SHERIFF: My God, I ain't had a bite to eat since
this thing happened.
94 5ron* ACT 11
MAYOR: Pete, two hundred thousand colored
votes are at stake! And we've got to hang Earl
Williams to get them.
SHERIFF: But we're going to hang him, Fred. He
can't get away. A knock on the door.
MAYOR: What do you mean he can't get away!
He got away, didn't he? Now look here, Pete—
Knocking louder. Who's out there? . . .
A VOICE outside: Is Sheriff Hartman in there?
SHERIFF starts for door; relieved: Ah! It's for
me! Opens the door. A small man named Pincus
stands there. I'm Sheriff Hartman. Do you want
me?
PINCUS a very colorless and uneffectual person:
Yes, sir. I've been looking all over for you, Sheriff.
You're certainly a hard fellow to find.
MAYOR annoyed: What do you want?
PINCUS taking a document from his pocket and
proffering it to the Sheriff. He smiles in a comradely
fashion. From the Governor.
MAYOR: What's from the Governor?
SHERIFF: Huh?
PINCUS: The reprieve for Earl Williams.
SHERIFF stunned: For whol
PINCUS amiably: Earl Williams. The reprieve.
act ii tlfye £rortt page 95
rA ghastly 'pause. I thought I'd never find you. First
I had a helluva time getting a taxi—
MAYOR: Wait—a minute. Getting his bearings.
Is this a joke or something?
PINCUS: Huh?
SHERIFF bursting out: It's a mistake,—there
must be a mistake! The Governor gave me his word
of honor he wouldn't interfere! Two days ago!
MAYOR: And you fell for it! Holy God, Pete!
It frightens me what I'd like to do to you! Wait a
minute! Come here you! Who else knows about this?
PINCUS: They were all standing around when
he wrote it. It was after they got back from fishing.
MAYOR: Get the Governor on the phone, Hart-
man.
PINCUS: ,They ain't got a phone. They're duck-
shooting now.
MAYOR: A lot of Goddam nimrods.
SHERIFF who has been reading the reprieve: Can
you beat that? Read it! Thrusts the paper into
Mayor's hands: Insane, he says! Striding over to
the messenger. He knows God damn well that Earl
Williams ain't insane!
PINCUS: Yeah! But I—
SHERIFF: This reprieve is pure politics and you
know it! It's an attempt to ruin us!
96 Cfye 5ron* ACT 11
MAYOR reading: Dementia praecox! My God!
SHERIFF: We got to think fast before those lying
reporters get hold of this. What'll we tell 'em1?
MAYOR: What'll you tell 'em? I'll tell you what
you can tell 'em! You can tell 'em your damn rela¬
tives were out there shooting everybody they see,
for the hell of it!
SHERIFF: Now Fred, you're just excited. "Phone
rings; Sheriff starts for the phone, talking as he
goes. We aren't going to get any place, rowing like
this.
MAYOR: And you can tell 'em the Republican
Party is through in this state on account of you.
SHERIFF into phone: Hello! This is Hartman.
MAYOR apoplectic: And you can add as an
afterthought that I want your resignation now.
SHERIFF from the phone: Sssh. Wait, Fred. Ex¬
citedly, into phone: What? Where? . . . Where?
My God!
MAYOR: What is it?
SHERIFF: They got him! Back to phone: Wait
a minute—hold the wire. To the Mayor: They got
Earl Williams surrounded . . . the Rifle Squad has
. . . in his house.
MAYOR: Tell 'em to hold the wire.
ACT ii Cfye 5ron* page 97
SHERIFF: I did. Into phone: Hold the wire.
MAYOR: Cover up that transmitter! Sheriff does
so. Mayor faces Pincus: Now listen! You never
arrived here with this—whatever it is. Get that?
PINCUS blinking: Yes, I did.
MAYOR: How much do you make a week?
PINCUS: Huh?
MAYOR impatiently: How much do you make a
week? What's your salary?
PINCUS reluctantly: Forty dollars.
SHERIFF into phone: No—don't cut me off.
MAYOR: How would you like to have a job for
three hundred and fifty dollars a month? That's
almost a hundred dollars a week!
PINCUS: Who? Me?
MAYOR: Who the hell do you think? Pincus is a
little startled; the Mayor hastens to adopt a milder
manner. Now, listen. There's a fine opening for a
fellow like you in the City Sealer's office.
PINCUS: The what?
MAYOR: The City Sealer's office!
PINCUS: You mean here in Chicago?
MAYOR foaming: Yes, yes.
98 £fye £ront page ACT II
SHERIFF at phone: Well, wait a minute, will
you? I'm in conference.
PINCUS a very deliberative intellect: No, I
couldn't do that.
MAYOR: Why not?
PINCUS: I couldn't work in Chicago. You see,
I've got my family in Springfield.
MAYOR desperate: But you could bring 'em to
Chicago! We'll pay all your expenses.
PINCUS with vast thought: No, I don't think so.
MAYOR: For God's sake, why not?
PINCUS: I got two kids going to high school there,
and if I changed them from one town to another
they'd probably lose a grade.
MAYOR: No, they wouldn't—they'd gain one!
They could go into any class they want to. And I
guarantee that they'll graduate with highest honors!
PINCUS lured: Yeah?
MAYOR: And the Chicago school system is the
best in the world. To Sheriff: Isn't it?
SHERIFF: Far and away! Into phone: Hold your
horses—will you, Mittelbaum. Hurry up, Fred!
MAYOR: Now what do you say?
act ii cfye $vont page 99
PINCUS: What did you say this job was?
MAYOR: In the City Sealer's office!
PINCUS: What's he do?
MAYOR jumping: Oh, for God's sake!
SHERIFF: He has charge of all the important
documents. He puts the City seals on them.
MAYOR: That's about on a par with the rest of
your knowledge! The City Sealer's duty, my friend,
is to see that the people of Chicago are not mulcted
by unscrupulous butchers and grocers.
SHERIFF: That's what I meant.
MAYOR: It's his duty to go around and test their
scales.
PINCUS: Yeah?
MAYOR: But only twice a year.
PINCUS: This puts me in a hell of a hole.
MAYOR: No it doesn't. . . . Hands him the re¬
prieve. Now remember. You never delivered this,
whatever it is. You got caught in the traffic or some¬
thing. ... Now get out of here and don't let any¬
body see you. . . .
PINCUS: But how do I know . . .
MAY OR: Come in and see me in my office tomor¬
row. What's your name?
ioo Cfye ^ront page act ii
PINCUS: Pincus.
MAYOR: All right, Mr. Pincus, all you've got to
do is lay low and keep your mouth shut. Here! He
hands him a card. Go to this address. It's a nice
homey little place, and you can get anything you
want. He sees Pincus through the door. Just tell 'em
Fred sent you. Pincus goes.
SHERIFF into phone, desperately: Will you wait,
for God's sake? I'll tell you in a minute! He turns
to the Mayor with a gesture of appeal.
MAYOR huskily: All right. Tell 'em to shoot to
kill.
SHERIFF: What?
MAYOR: Shoot to kill, I said.
SHERIFF: I don't know, Fred. There's that re¬
prieve if they ever find out.
MAYOR: Nobody reprieved that policeman he
murdered. Now do as I tell you.
SHERIFF into phone: Hello, Mittelbaum . . .
Listen. His voice is weak: Shoot to kill. . . . That's
the orders—pass the word along. ... No! We don't
want him! And listen, Mittelbaum—five hundred
bucks for the guy that does the job. ... Yes, I'll be
right out there. Hangs up. Well, I hope that's the
right thing to do. There is a great kicking on the
door.
act ii Cfje $vont page 101
HILDY outside: Hey! Who's in there? Open that
door!
MAYOR en route to the door: For God's sake take
that guilty look off your face. And stop trembling
like a horse. The Sheriff starts whistling, "Ach, du
Lieber Augustine" in what he imagines is a care-free
manner. The Mayor opens the door • Hildy enters.
HILDY: Oh, it's you two! Well, what's the idea of
locking the door1? Playing post-office? Going to
phone.
SHERIFF with elaborate unconcern, as he walks
toward the door: Oh, hello, Hildy.
MAYOR: Come on, Hartman.
HILDY into the phone: Gimme Walter Burns.
To the others: Was there a fellow in here asking
for me*?
SHERIFF: Did you hear we've got Williams sur¬
rounded1?
HILDY: Yeah. I heard you only let him out so
he could vote for you on Tuesday.
MAYOR: Hartman! He pulls Sheriff out of the
room.
HILDY into phone: Hello, Duffy ... this is Hildy.
Listen, where's Walter? Well, where did he go?
God damn it, Duffy, I'm waitin' here for the boy to
bring over my money . . . the two hundred and sixty
io2 Cfye £rorit page act h
dollars he owes me. . . . Yeah ... in the Press Room.
He told me the boy was on his way. . . . What the
hell are you laughin' about"? . . . Listen, Duffy, has
that maniac started the money over or not4? . . .No,
I ain't got time to come over to the office. I'll miss
the train. . . . Oh, for God's sake! . . . that double-
crossing louse! He hangs up. Woodenshoes enters.
WOODENSHOES: The trouble is, nobody's using
the right psychology. Now you take this aspect of
the situation: you got a man named Earl Williams
who has escaped . . .
HILDY seizing at a straw: Have you got two hun¬
dred and sixty dollars on you4?
WOODENSHOES: What?
HILDY: Have you got two hundred and sixty dol¬
lars?
WOODENSHOES: No, but I got a way of mak¬
ing it, and more. I know how we can get ten thousand
dollars, if you'll just listen. Pointing his finger at
Hildy in the manner of a man letting the cat out of
the bag: Serchay la femme!
HILDY: What?
WOODENSHOES inexorably—for him: Who is
it that's been defendin' this feller Williams right
along? Who is it that was hangin' around his room
just before the escape happened?
act ii cfye $xont page 103
HILDY: O, for God's sake! I ain't got time,
Woodenshoes. I got to get two hundred and sixty
dollars in the next five minutes!
WOODENSHOES: It's gonna take longer than
five minutes. I know where Earl Williams is!
HILDY: He's out at Clark and Fullerton, getting
his head blown off. But that don't get me any money.
WOODENSHOES: Earl Williams is with that
girl, Mollie Malloy! That's where he is!
HILDY despairing: Can you imagine—this time
tomorrow I'd have been a gentleman. Diamond
Louie enters. Hildy leaps for him. Thank God!
Have you got the dough"?
LOUIE: Huh1?
WOODENSHOES: She sent him a lot of roses
didn't she?
HILDY: God damn it—the hell with your roses.
Gimme the dough. I'm in a hell of a hurry, Louie.
LOUIE: What are you talkin' about?
WOODENSHOES: I'll betcha I'm right. Exits.
HILDY: Listen, Louie! Do you mean to say Wal¬
ter didn't give you the dough he owes me?
LOUIE: Walter's pretty sore. You better come
over and see him.
HILDY: But that's all settled! Walter and I are
io4 Cfye $rortt page act ii
like this! He illustrates with two twined fingers. I
just did a swell favor for him—scooped the whole
town! We're pals again! I'm telling you.
LOUIE: He just told me be sure and get you, you
known what I mean?
HILDY frantically: I tell you that's fixed! By
God, Louie, do you think I'd try to put something
over on you4?
LOUIE: What do you mean fixed1? He wants to
talk to you. I been looking all over—
HILDY: But I did talk to him! Everything's all
right! I swear to you!
LOUIE weakening: Jesus, Hildy, I don't know.
HILDY: Certainly! My God, he wants me to go!
Now listen, Louie—you've always got a lot of
money—will you help me out? This two hundred
and sixty bucks—Walter's sending a boy with it, but
I can't wait! I gotta catch a train, see? Now—
LOUIE: What two hundred and sixty bucks?
HILDY: The money I spent on the story! He's
sending it over, but I want you to take that and give
me the money now!
LOUIE: Oh! You want two hundred and sixty
dollars—now.
HILDY: YES!
act ii Cfye £ront page 105
LOUIE: Well, that's a lot of money, you know
what I mean?
HILDY: You can get it from Walter. I'll give
you my I. O. U.
LOUIE: Lis'en, Hildy, I'd like to help you out.
But I've been stung on so many I. O. U's lately that
I made myself a promise.
HILDY: But this ain't an I. O. U. . . . It's money
comin' to me from the paper!
LOUIE: What have you got to show for it?
HILDY: Louie, listen! My whole future is de¬
pendent on this. My girl's waitin' at the train. I've
just got fifteen minutes to get there. If you'll help
me out, I swear . . . Honest to God . . .
LOUIE interrupting: Two hundred and sixty dol¬
lars . .. that's a big gamble!
HILDY: It's no gamble at all. I'll write out a note
to Walter say in' for him to give you the money he
owes me.
LOUIE: Well, I'll tell you what I'll do with you.
I'll take a chance.
HILDY as he writes out note: That's the stuff.—
You're a white man, Louie, you're a real white man.
God—I knew I could depend on you.
LOUIE: I tell you what I'll do. I'll give you a
106 Cfye ^rorit page act h
hundred and fifty dollars for the debt. Hildy stares
at him.
HILDY: That's just takin' advantage, Louie.
LOUIE: That's the best I can do.
HILDY: Well, Christ! I lose almost a hundred
bucks by that.
LOUIE: All right. Puts money back in his pocket.
Have it your own wa)^
HILDY: Make it two hundred.
LOUIE: One hundred and fifty!
HILDY: All right, give me the dough. Diamond
Louie takes the paper that Hildy has written out
and reads it very carefully, folds it, puts it in his
pocket and then proceeds to count out the money,
as Hildy is looking for his hat and coat.
LOUIE: Here you are. Hildy grabs the money and
begins to count it. Well, goodbye and good luck. I'll
look you up in New York—if there's anything
wrong with this. Louie exits.
HILDY counting the money: Ten, twenty, thirty,
thirty-five, forty-five—gets confused; starts again:
Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, forty-five, fifty-five—in
trouble again; he gives up. The hell with it. Anyway,
I get out of this lousy place. They can take their
story now and—Hildy pockets the money and starts
ACT II 5r0n^ I07
hurriedly to pick up his parcels, including his old
felt hat in a paper bag. As he starts for the door,
he is arrested by a sound at the window. The sound
is caused by Earl Williams falling through the win¬
dow into the room. Mr. Williams is a little harm¬
less-looking man with a moustache. He is coatless
and is shod with death-house sneakers. He carries a
large gun. He is on the verge of collapse and holds
on to a chair for support. He talks in an exhausted
voice. Hildy at the sight of him, drops his packages
and stands riveted.
EARL: They're after me with searchlights . . .
HILDY: Put—put down that gun!
EARL supporting himself: It ain't loaded. I fired
all the bullets already.
HILDY: Holy God Almighty! . . .
EARL weakly—handing Hildy the gun: I sur¬
render. ... I couldn't hang off that roof any longer.
HILDY: Holy God!—Get away from that win¬
dow. Earl obeys. Hildy strides to the door and locks
it. He comes back and stands staring at Earl and
scratches his head: Well, for God's sake . . .
EARL: I'm not afraid to die. I was tellin' the fella
that when he handed me the gun.
HILDY: Shut up a second! He locks the door.
io8 Cfye ^ront page act ii
EARL babbling on: Wakin' me up in the middle
of the night . . . talking to me about things they
don't understand. Callin' me a Bolshevik. I ain't a
Bolshevik. I'm an anarchist. Hildy is pulling down
the blinds and putting out the lights. It's got nothin'
to do with bombs. It's the one philosophy that guar¬
antees every man freedom. Weakly: All those poor
people being crushed by the System. And the boys
that were killed in the war. And in the slums—all
those slaves to a crust of bread—I can hear 'em
cryin'—
HILDY: Be quiet! The hell with that. Shut up!
. . . will you4? He is hunting for a hiding place.
EARL: Go on . . . take me back and hang me . . .
I done my best. . . . He crumples and falls to the
floor. Hildy stands for a second, desperate. His eye
falls on the toilet door. He considers, picks up Wil¬
liams and hurriedly dumps him inside the toilet.
He closes the door and springs for the telephone.
HILDY into phone: Hello. . . . Gimme Walter
Burns, quick! Second phone rings. Hildy hesitates,
then answers it, propping first receiver between ear
and shoulder: Hello! . . . Hello! . . . Oh, hello,
Peggy. . . . Listen, for God's sake have a heart, will
you? Something terrific has happened! Into first
phone: Walter? Hildy . . . No, the hell with that.
Listen—come right over here. . . . Come over here
act ii Cfye 5ron* Page I09
right away. . . . Wait a minute. Into second phone:
For God's sake, Peggy, quit bawling me out, will
you"? I'm in a hell of a jam! Back to Walter: Wal¬
ter ! Get this—I only want to say it once. ... I got
Earl Williams.... Yes!... Here in the press room!
. . . Honest to God! ... For God's sake, hurry! I
need you. ... I will. Hangs up. Into Peggy's phone
again: Listen, darling, this is the biggest thing that
ever happened. ... Now, wait! Don't cry. Wait till
I tell you. Lowers his voice: I just captured Earl
Williams! In an intense whisper: Earl Williams
. . . the murderer! I got him. . . . For God's sake,
don't tell anybody. . . . Aw, Peggy . . . Peggy ... I
can't. ... I can't now! . . . Good Lord! Don't you
realize ... J know, but Peggy . . . She has hung up.
Hello, Peggy . . . Peggy! Hildy hangs up the phone
dejectedly. During the last few speeches, there has
been a knocking on the door. Hildy glares apprehen¬
sively and holds himself ready for fight. He moves
to the door, and as he approaches it, cries: Who is
it? There is no answer. Hildy opens the door cau¬
tiously. Mollie bounds in like a wildcat. He seizes
her and wrestles with her. Wait a minute! What the
hell do you want?
MOLLIE wildly: Where they gone? You know
where they are.
HILDY: Get outa here, Mollie!
no Cfye ^ront page act h
MOLLIE: They got him surrounded. They're
gonna shoot him—like a dog.
HILDY: Listen! They're lookin' for you, too! If
you're smart, you'll get outa here.
MOLLIE: For God's sake, tell me where they've
gone. I ain't afraid of them, the yella murderers . . .
HILDY: I'll tell you where they are. They're out
at Clark Street! That's where they are! Clark and
Fullerton!
MOLLIE: Where? Where"? . . .The toilet door
opens and Earl Williams appears, dazed and blink¬
ing. Mollie sees him. Oh! A knock on the outer door
is heard.
HILDY with a desperate look at the door: Oh, for
Christ's—! . . . Sh—! With a desperate gesture for
silence, and tiptoeing towards door: Who is it1?
WOODENSHOES outside: It's me.
HILDY: What do you want, Woodenshoes?
WOODENSHOES outside: I got some important
information for you ... a clue . . .
HILDY: I'll be right with you. I'm making a per¬
sonal call. . . . Turning to the two, tensely: Get
back in there! Indicating toilet.
MOLLIE: What's this ... a double cross?
HILDY: Damn it! I'm trying to save him. . . .
ACT II Cfye 5ron* Pa9e 111
WOODENSHOES outside: This is very impor¬
tant.
MOLLIE to Earl: What are you doing here?
HILDY to Mollie: Keep him quiet! It's a cop! On
his way to the door: I'll get rid of him ... He opens
the door cautiously and steps quickly into the hall,
leaving his arm behind him, his hand on the inside
knob of the door. Loud and friendly: Hello, Wood-
enshoes! What's on your mind1? During the ensuing
scene a hardly audible conversation takes place be-
tween Hildy and Woodenshoes. Hildy's shoulder is
visible in the door.
EARL: Thank you for those roses. . . .
MOLLIE: How did you get here? Does anybody
know?
EARL: I came down the rainpipe. I didn't mean
to shoot him. I don't know what happened.
MOLLIE: But what are you going to do? You
can't stay here! They'll get you!
EARL: I don't care any more.
MOLLIE: You've got to hide! You've got to hide
somewhere! The rats!
EARL: No. Don't do anything. I'm ready to go.
I don't care. It's better to die for a cause than the
way most people die—for no reason.
n2 fEfye $vont page act ii
MOLLIE: You won't die. They'll never get you.
EARL: I ain't important. It's humanity that's im¬
portant, like I told you. Humanity is a wonderful
thing, Mollie.
MOLLIE: No, it ain't. They're just dirty mur¬
derers. Look what they done to you . . . and to
me . . .
EARL: That's because they don't know any bet¬
ter.
MOLLIE: You're too good for 'em . . . that's why.
EARL: You're good, too.
MOLLIE with wonder: Me?
EARL: Yeah, I think you're wonderful.... I wrote
out a statement today and left it with Mr. Jacobi,
so that when I was dead people would understand
what I meant. There was a lot about you in it. I said
you were the most beautiful character I ever met.
MOLLIE blinking and dazed: Yeah?
HILDY entering, indicating toilet: Get back in
there! The fellows are coming down the hall now!
He locks the door.
MOLLIE: They'll find him there!
HILDY: Well, there isn't any place else. He looks
helplessly around the room; at that moment some¬
one tries the door knob.
act ii Zty ^rortt page 113
MOLLIE: There's somebody!
HILDY: Sssh!
ENDICOTT outside: Who locked the door!
HILDY: Coming right away, Mike. Whispers to
Mollie: He's got to go in there!
ENDICOTT outside: Well, for God's sake, hurry.
MOLLIE: Oh, my God!
HILDY: Wait a minute! I got an idea! Springs
and opens the desk. Can you get in this desk?
WILSON outside: What the hell's going on in
there? Starts to pound on door.
EARL: What good'll it do?
HILDY: We'll get you out in ten minutes.
WILSON outside: Open up there, will you?
HILDY: All right, all right. God damn it!
EARL: Please, don't talk like that in front of her.
MOLLIE to Earl: Go on! Please! Please!
EARL: They'll find me, anyhow. More pounding.
HILDY: All right, I'm coming! To Earl: Keep
dead quiet. Don't even breathe.
MOLLIE: I'll be right here. I won't leave you.
ENDICOTT outside, shouting: Hey, what the
God damn Hell.
ii4 ^rorit page act ii
HILDY: Keep your shirt on! He opens the door.
What are you trying to do! Kick down the build¬
ing? Endicott and Wilson enter. Head for phones
at back.
ENDICOTT: Kind of exclusive, ain't you*? Sees
Mollie. Oh! Elaborately: I beg your pardon.
WILSON: City Desk, please! What's the idea of
locking the door?
HILDY: I was interviewing her.
ENDICOTT at phone: Gimme the city desk. . . .
What was he doing to her?
WILSON: With the blinds down. Murphy enters.
MURPHY: Where the hell you been, Hildy?
There's the damnedest Hallowe'en going on—the
whole police force standing on its ear. At phone:
Murphy talking. Gimme the desk.
WILSON into phone: Wilson speaking. No luck
yet on Williams. Call you back! Kruger enters.
KRUGER: God, I never was so tired in my life.
HILDY: Any news?
MURPHY into phone: This is Murphy. .. . Well,
they surrounded the house, only Williams wasn't
there.
KRUGER: Gimme a rewrite man. McCue enters.
act ii 115
McCUE entering: Jesus, what a chase!
MURPHY into phone: Wait a minute. They shot
somebody, anyhow. Here you are! Ready? Herman
Schulte, the Sheriff's brother-in-law. He was leading
the squad through the house and was looking under
a bed when Deputy John F. Watson came in the
room and mistook him for Earl. Shot him right in
the pants. Yeah. A bull's eye. Right. Hangs up.
HILDY on edge: He always had lead in his pants.
McCUE at his phone: McCue talking. Gimme the
desk.
KRUGER phoning: This is Kruger, out with Hart-
man's deputies. . . . Yeah. . . . I'm in the drug store,
at Clark and Fuller ton. Well, call me back if you
don't believe me. Hangs up.
McCUE into phone: That so? I'll check on it.
Hangs up. There's something doing at Harrison
Street Station. Into phone: Gimme Harrison 2500.
Hurry it, will you please?
KRUGER to Mollie, who is in the swivel chair in
front of the desk: What's the idea, Mollie? Can't
you flop somewhere else?
MURPHY: Yeah, parking her fanny in here like
it was a cathouse. Takes a sniff of the air. Fleur
de Floosie, she's got on.
ii6 ctje $vont page act h
KRUGER neighing like a horse: Makes me pas¬
sionate !
MURPHY: Go on, Mollie, put it somewhere else.
Go out and stink up Clark Street.
MOLLIE nervous and twitching: You lay off me!
McCUE: Look out—she'll start bawling again.
Into phone: I'll hold the wire. Only don't forget
me.
HILDY: Let her alone, fellas. She's not doing any¬
thing.
MURPHY to Hildy: What the hell are you two
so chummy about?
ENDICOTT: Yeah, they were locked in here to¬
gether when we come along.
WILSON: Wouldn't open the door.
McCUE: You'll be out of training for your honey¬
moon—playing pinochle with this baby.
MURPHY: I thought you were going to catch a
train.
KRUGER: He was running around here ten min¬
utes ago with his pants on fire about going to New
York.
ENDICOTT: Told us he was interviewing her.
MURPHY: What are you trying to do? Scoop
us?
ACT II (Die £rortt page "7
HILDY: I'm waiting here for Walter. He's coming
over with some dough.
McCUE phoning: Hello, Sarge. McCue. I hear you
got a tip on Williams.
WILSON: Look, she's got the shakes. What the
hell you making faces about?
ENDICOTT singing childishly: She's jealous be¬
cause Hildy's going to be married.
HILDY: Go on—Show 'em you can smile through
your tears. Relax.
MOLLIE: You let me alone—all of you. Schwartz
enters.
McCUE into phone: Yeah! What's the address!
SCHWARTZ: Hello, fellas. What the hell,
Hildy? You still here?
ENDICOTT: Yeah, and trying to hang something
on us, if you ask me. What's the low-down Hildy?
SCHWARTZ: Who the hell pulled these shades
down?
McCUE turning from phone: Hey! This looks
good. An old lady just called up the detective bureau
and claims Williams is hiding under her piazza.
ENDICOTT: Tell her to stand up.
MURPHY: Who you got there?
ii8 Cfye £rortt page act n
McCUE: The Captain.
MURPHY: Let me talk to him. Taking the phone:
Hello, Turkey. . . . How's your gussie mollie1? . . .
I hear this guy Williams is hiding in your mustache.
. . . Yeah1? Well, get your nose out of the way.
Hangs up. Joints to Mollie's crossed and highly
visible legs: Oooh! Lookit! Pike's Peak!
McCUE: Listen, fellows, that sounds like a pretty
good tip. What do you say?
HILDY: If you boys want to get out I'll cover
this end for you.
ENDICOTT: Aw, the hell with chasing around
any more. I spent a dollar forty on taxis already.
KRUGER flat on his back: Don't let's do any more
going out.
SCHWARTZ who has gone to the window: If you
ask me, I got a hunch Williams ain't anywhere they
been looking for him.
WILSON: How do you mean"?
SCHWARTZ: Well, I just been talking to Jacobi
about that roof he's supposed to have jumped off of.
Look! Now there's that skylight he got out of.
ENDICOTT: Where?
McCUE looking out: Jesus, how could he get from
there to the ground?
act ii Cfye $vont page 119
SCHWARTZ: That's just the point. Jacobi's gone
up there with a couple of cops to look over the whole
roof.
McCUE leaning out: I tell you what he could have
done, though. Look! He could have jumped over
to this roof. That's only about four feet.
ENDICOTT: Yeah, he could have done that, all
right.
KRUGER wearily: I'm pretending there ain't no
Earl Williams.
SCHWARTZ: And that's why I'm telling you
guys that I don't think this guy Williams is any¬
where they been looking for him. I got a stinking
hunch he's right in this building.
HILDY derisive: Hanging around like a duck in
a shootin' gallery, I suppose! You're a lot of bright
guys. . . .
McCUE still lookingt It'd be easy, once he got on
this roof. . . .
HILDY with nervous hilarity: Hey—Sherlock
Holmes, what correspondence school did you gradu¬
ate from?
SCHWARTZ: What's the matter with that? He
could come down the rainpipe and crawl into any
one of those windows on this side. . . .
i2o Cfye £rortt page act ii
KRUGER: Well if the story's going to walk right
in the window—!
HILDY: The master minds at work! Why don't
you guys go home—he'll probably call on you. . . .
Bensinger enters and approaches his desk. Mollie
sitting in his chair, is hidden from him at the mo¬
ment by one or two of the reporters.
BENSINGER: Hello, Hildy. Thought you were
going to New York. Hildy has sprung into action
with Bensinger's entrance. Bensinger sees Mollie.
For God's sake, what's she doing in my chair1?
Mollie springs up. Is that the only place you can sit?
That's my property and I don't want anybody using
it!
HILDY leaning against the closed desk: Nobody's
using it, Roy. Everything's all right.
BENSINGER anxiously: Any of you fellows got
some aspirin?
ENDICOTT: No, sweetheart, but I got some nice
cyanide.
BENSINGER sitting down: Cut the kidding, fel¬
lows. I tell you I'm sick.
SCHWARTZ: How about a good truss? I'll sell
it to you cheap.
HILDY: What's the matter, Roy? Off your feed?
BENSINGER: If I haven't got a good case of
act ii Cfye ^rortt page 121
grippe coming, I miss my guess. Reaching for desk
cover. Get out of the way, will you"?
HILDY not moving: I hope you didn't get it off
me.
BENSINGER: I got it off somebody. Everybody
using my phone all the time—it's a wonder I ain't
caught anything worse. Pushing Hildy slightly.
Look out, I got to get my cup.
HILDY doubling up as if with a violent cramp:
Wait a minute, will you?
BENSINGER frightened: What's the matter?
HILDY faintly: I don't know, oh—
BENSINGER: Don't you feel all right?
HILDY: No. Coughs violently in Bensinger's face.
BENSINGER: Don't do that!
HILDY weakly: Do what?
BENSINGER: Cough on a guy! Jesus!
HILDY: Well, I don't know what's the matter.
I suddenly got a pain right—vaguely indicates his
throat—and a kind of rash on my chest. Opening
his shirt.
BENSINGER recoiling: What?! You've probably
got some disease!
MURPHY: Sure! He's got the pazooza!
i22 ^rortt page act ii
HILDY advancing on Bensinger, tries to take his
hand: Feel! Ain't that fever1?
BENSINGER retreating from the desk: Hey, cut
it out! It may be diphtheria!
HILDY: I woke up this morning, and had yellow
spots all over my stomach. . . .
BENSINGER: That ain't funny!
KRUGER: For God's sake, Roy, can't you see he's
kidding you. Hildy following Bensinger, seizes him.
BENSINGER: Let go of me! You may have some¬
thing contagious! If you're sick go to a hospital!
Hildy coughs in his face. For the love of God!
MURPHY: It's no worse than a bad cold, Roy.
HILDY opening his mouth: Can you see anything
in there ? Aaah!
BENSINGER: Listen, fellows! You ain't got any
sense, letting him hang around here. We'll all catch
it, whatever it is! They all laugh. All right, laugh!
But I'm going to get this place fumigated!
MURPHY: The hell you are!
BENSINGER furiously: The hell I ain't! We got
to breathe this air. I'm gonna get Doc Springer and
clean this whole place up! You Goddamn maniacs.
Exits. Hildy leans weakly up against the desk and
laughs hysterically.
act ii ctje ^'ront page 123
ENDICOTT: What's the idea, Hildy? Now he'll
be burning sulphur for a week like last time. . . .
McCUE: Yeah, you're leavin', but we gotta work
here, with all them stink pots. . . . What a sense of
humor you got.
SCHWARTZ: Now look here. What about Wil¬
liams'? Let's get the cops and search the building.
What do you say"?
ENDICOTT: I could use that reward. . . .
MURPHY: What the hell could you do with ten
grand? . . .
ENDICOTT: You could have a girl in every room
at the Sherman Hotel for that. . . .
MURPHY: You'd never get past the basement.
McCUE: It would be funny if we found him
right here in the building.
SCHWARTZ: What do you say1? Should we get
the cops'?
MURPHY: Call up Lieut. Callahan, Mac. Tell
him we got a hot tip.
HILDY: Wait! What do you want to call the
cops for? Suppose he is in the building. They'll
grab all the reward and you guys won't get a smell.
SCHWARTZ: Huh?
124
U-fye ^rorti act ii
WILSON: That's right.
HILDY: Listen! Each of us take a floor and who¬
ever finds him, we split it up. What do you say?
WILSON: That's not a bad idea.
KRUGER: I'll stay here.
HILDY: Two grand apiece! Why we could retire
for life! You could pay off all those loan sharks,
Jimmie, and have enough left to stay stinko forever!
McCUE: I don't know, getting my can blown off.
HILDY: What else is it good for? . . . Besides, he
can't hurt anybody. . . . What do you say? Do you
want to try it?
MRS. GRANT enters, in a very righteous mood:
Well!
HILDY stricken: Now—now, listen, mother—
MRS. GRANT: Don't you mother me! If you've
got anything to say for yourself you come down¬
stairs and say it to Peggy.
HILDY: Listen, mother, tell Peggy I'll be down'
stairs in five minutes, will you? Will you go down
and tell her that?
MRS. GRANT: No, sir—I don't move out of here
without you.
act ii Cfye $ront page I25
HILDY: Listen, mother, you don't understand.
Now I told Peggy—
MRS. GRANT: I know what you told her! A lot
of gibberish about a murderer!
HILDY: No—no!
MRS. GRANT: I don't care if you did catch him,
you come with me this minute!
THE REPORTERS: I knew something stunk
around here. Who says he caught him? What's go¬
ing on. What do you mean caught a murderer? etc.
In the midst of this babel, Woodenshoes enters;
stands listening.
HILDY: No, no! I don't know what she's talking
about! I didn't tell her any such thing.
MRS. GRANT: Yes, you did!
MOLLIE: He never told her that!
HILDY: I said I was trying to catch one, that's
all! You got it balled up, mother!
MURPHY to Mollie: What do you know about
it? How do you know he didn't?
MOLLIE: Let go of my arm!
ENDICOTT: Hildy and that tart were in here to¬
gether !
WOODENSHOES: Yah! Yah! She's the one that
knows! Ask her!
126 Cfye $vont page act h
MURPHY wheeling on him: What do you mean
she knows?
WOODENSHOES: Serchay la femme! To Mol-
lie: Where's Earl Williams'?
MOLLIE: How the hell should I know?
WOODENSHOES: Where have you got him hid?
MURPHY viciously: Who you holding out on,
Hildy? Come clean, or God damn it, we'll knock
it out of you! The reporters surround Hildy men¬
acingly.
McCUE: Yeah. What the hell! Sock him, Jimmie!
ENDICOTT: You dirty double-crosser!
MOLLIE wildly: Wait! You God damn stool
pigeons! He don't know where Earl Williams is.
I'm the one that knows.
ENDICOTT: What do you mean you know? The
reporters turn on Mollie.
WOODENSHOES: Where is he!
MOLLIE: Go find out, you lousy heels. You don't
think I'm gonna tell!
WOODENSHOES: You'll tell all right! We'll
make you . .
MOLLIE slowly baching toward the door: Yeah?
... Yeah . . . the hell I will.
act ii Cfye ^rortt page 127
HILDY who has remained riveted to the desk: Let
her alone . . . she's goofy! Mollie lunges suddenly
for the door.
THE REPORTERS: Look out!... Close that door
. . . For Christ' sake! Don't let her get away. She is
headed off at the door.
McCUE: You ain't gettin' out o' here, Mollie.
ENDICOTT: Now where is he? In the building?
McCUE: Where you hidin'him?
MOLLIE: I ain't gonna squeal! I ain't gonna
squeal!
MURPHY approaching her slowly: Come on, you
lousy tart! Before we kick your teeth out!
ENDICOTT: D'ye want us to call the cops and
give you the boots?
MURPHY: Go on, Woodenshoes. Slap it out of
her!
WOODENSHOES reaching for her: Come on
now. Where is he before I hurt you?
MOLLIE tearing away from him, wild and blub¬
bering: Take your hands off me, you God damn
kidney foot! She snatches at a chair and swings it
at the slowly advancing circle of men: Let me alone
or I'll knock your God damn heads off. . . .
ENDICOTT: Put down that chair!
128 Ctje £ront page act ii
SCHWARTZ: Get around—get on the side of her.
MOLLIE backing away, swinging her chair: No
you don't! You bastards! Keep away from me!
KRUGER: Grab her.
MOLLIE with a last wild look at the circling foe:
You'll never get it out of me. . . . She hurls the
chair at their heads and screams: I'll never tell!
Never! She leaps for the open window and dis¬
appears. Her scream of terror and exultation is
heard as she drops through the darkness to the
ground. The reporters stand riveted for an instant,
powerless before the tragedy. Then they rush for¬
ward. An assortment of awed and astonished oaths
rise from them. They lean out of the window.
Woodenshoes the Theorist, stands sick at heart. His
body is doubled up with pain for a moment.
Through the babble of cries his voice comes thickly.
WOODENSHOES: Oh! I never thought she'd do
that! That's terrible. . . .
MRS. GRANT coming out of a trance: Take me
out of here! Take me out of here! Oh my God! She
collapses in a chair.
THE REPORTERS at the window: She ain't
killed. . . . No. . . . She's moving. . . . Get the cops,
Woodenshoes. . . . Come on fellas. . . .
act ii cfye ^rorit page 129
HILDY: Holy God—the poor kid ... the poor kid.
Voices come from the jail yard—"Hey Carl. .. . Get
a doctor! What the hell! Who is it? What hap¬
pened?" etc. The Reporters rush out to get to Mol-
lie. Hildy stands dazed, looking out of the window.
Mrs. Grant moans through her hands. As the vibra¬
tions subside a newcomer is standing in the door.
This is Mr. Walter Burns, the Managing Editor.
Beneath a dapper and very citizen-like exterior
lurks a, hobgoblin, perhaps the Devil himself. But if
Mr. Burns is the Devil he is a very naif one. He is
a Devil with neither point nor purpose to him—
an undignified Devil hatched for a bourgeoise Hal¬
lowe'en. In less hyperbolic language Mr. Burns is
that product of thoughtless, pointless, nerve-drum¬
ming unmorality that is the Boss Journalist—the
licensed eavesdropper, trouble maker, bombinator
and Town Snitch, misnamed The Press. At this
moment Mr. Burns, in the discharge of his high call¬
ingr, stands in the door, nerveless and meditative as
a child, his mind open to such troubles as he can find
or create.
HILDY seeing him: Walter! My God—did you
see that?
WALTER quietly: Yes. Where is he?
HILDY: She jumped out of the window.
WALTER: I know. . . . Where is he, I said?
130 $rortt Page act h
HILDY looking out of the window: She's moving!
Thank God she ain't killed herself!
WALTER: Come to, Hildy! Where have you got
Williams?
HILDY still absorbed in the Mollie matter: Huh1?
He's—he's in the desk. As Walter goes to desk:
Thank God she ain't dead. Walter opens desk a
crack.
EARL muffled: Let me out, I can't stand it!
WALTER: Keep quiet! You're sitting pretty.
MRS. GRANT staring at the Editor: What's the
matter?
WALTER he wheels: Who the hell is that?
HILDY: It's my girl's mother.
MRS. GRANT: What are you doing? Oh, my
God!
WALTER: Shut up!
MRS. GRANT: I won't shut up! That girl killed
herself. Oh! You're doing something wrong. What's
in there? Diamond..Louie appears in the doorway.
HILDY: Now, mother, please!
WALTER: Take her out of here, will you?
MRS. GRANT: What did you say?
HILDY: Now look here, Walter—
act ii tefye $vont page 131
WALTER: Louie, take this lady over to Polack
Mike's, and lock her up. See that she don't talk to
anyone on the way!
MRS. GRANT: What's that? What's that?
HILDY startled: Aw, now, Walter, you can't do
that!
LOUIE calls: Hey, Tony!
MRS. GRANT: Don't you touch me!
WALTER: Tell 'em it's a case of delerium tre¬
mens.
LOUIE: Tony, give me a hand with this lady.
HILDY helplessly: Listen, Walter, this'll get me
in a hell of a jam. ... To Mrs. Grant who, a hand
over her mouth, is being dragged off, her heels trail¬
ing: Now don't worry, mother, this is only tempo¬
rary. . . . Honest to God, Walter . . .
MRS. GRANT vaguely heard: Peggy, Peggy! Oh,
my God! Exit Tony, Louie and Mrs. Grant. Hildy
starts out.
WALTER grabs his arm: Where the hell do you
think you're going?
HILDY: Let go of me! I gotta get my girl! She's
downstairs in a cab all alone.
.WALTER: Your girl! Good God, what are you?
132 fEfye £rortt page act ii
Some puking college boy! Why, in time of war you
could be shot for what you're doing—for less than
you're doing!
HILDY: To hell with you—there's your story—
locked up in that desk! Smear it all over the front
page—Earl Williams caught by the Examiner—and
take all the credit. ... I covered your story and I
covered it God damn right. . . .Now I'm gettin'
out. . . .
WALTER: You drooling saphead . . . What do
you mean—a story? You've got the whole city by
the seat of the pants!
HILDY: I know all about that, but.. .
WALTER: You know hell—You got the brains
of a pancake.... Listen Hildy, if I didn't have your
interests at heart would I be wastin' time now argu-
in' with you! You've done somethin' big—you've
stepped into a new class . . .
HILDY D'Artagnan never gave Richelieu an ear
more startled or more innocent: Huh?
WALTER: Listen, we'll make such monkeys out
of these ward heelers that nobody will vote for them
—not even their wives.
HILDY: Expose 'em, huh . . .
WALTER: Expose 'em! Crucify em! We're gonna
act ii flfye £rortt page 133
keep Williams under cover till morning so's the Ex¬
aminer can break the story exclusive. . . Then we'll
let the Senator in on the capture—share the glory
with him.
HILDY: I see—I see! Blinking and warming up.
WALTER: You've kicked over the whole City
Hall like an applecart. You've got the Mayor and
Hartman backed against a wall. You've put one ad¬
ministration out and another in. . . . This ain't a
newspaper story—it's a career. And you standin'
there bellyachin about some girl. . . .
HILDY: Jesus, I— I wasn't figuring it that way,
I guess. We'll be the white-haired boys, won't we?
WALTER: Why, they'll be naming streets after
you. Johnson Street! You and I and the Senator are
going to run this town.. .. Do you understand that?
HILDY: Yeah. . . . Yeah! But—wait a minute—
we can't leave Williams here. . . . One of those re-
porters'll . . .
WALTER: We're going to take him over to my
private office right away. . . . Where's the Examiner
phone ?
HILDY: That one. The red one. How the hell
you gonna do it? They'll see him!
WALTER: Not if he's inside the desk We'll
*34 5ron* pctge ACT ii
carry the desk over. Into phone: Hello! Examiner.
Give me Duffy. . . . I'd have had him there now if
you hadn't give me such an argument.
HILDY: You can't take that out. It's crawling
with cops outside.
WALTER: We'll lower it out of the window with
pulleys. Quit stallin'. To Hildy: Hildy! Get that
machine and start pounding out a lead, will you. . . .
Come on—snap into it. . . .
HILDY: How much you want on it4? . . .
WALTER: All the words you got. . . .
HILDY: Where the hell is there some paper?
WALTER into phone: Hello. . . . Hello!
HILDY moving for Bensinger's desk: Can I call
the Mayor an animal at bay?
WALTER: Call him a nigger if you want to! Come
on! Come on!
HILDY: How about that time he had his house
painted by the fire department.
WALTER: Give him the works. . . . Into phone:
Hello Duffy. Get set! We got the biggest story in
the world. Earl Williams caught by the Examiner
. . . exclusive. . . . Hildy has opened the drawers of
Bensinger's desk and in a frantic search for paper is
tossing play manuscripts, syringes, patent medicines
and old socks in the air.
act ii £rortt page 135
WALTER continuing into phone: Duffy! Send
down word to Butch McGuirk I want ten huskies
from the circulation department to lam right over
here—press room criminal courts building. That's
what I said—Butch McGuirk. To Hildy: He'll get
that desk out—nothin' ever stopped those boys yet.
Hildy has unearthed a full package of Bensinger's
personal stationery. He now picks up the typewriter:
What if they start shootin' ?
WALTER: Fine! Into phone: Now listen, Duffy.
I want you to tear out the whole front page. . . .
That's what I said—the whole front page . . . out
. . . Into phone: Johnson's writing the lead. . . .
Peggy enters—a desperate and strident antagonist.
PEGGY: Hildy!
WALTER: What the hell do you want!
PEGGY: Hildy!
HILDY holdinq the typewriter in his arms. Dazed:
What?
WALTER: Listen, Miss, you can't come in here!
Into phone: To hell with the Chinese earthquake!
. . . What's that?
HILDY: Listen, darling—
PEGGY: Where's mother?
WALTER into phone: I don't care if there's a
million dead.
136 Cfye ^ront page act ii
HILDY: Peggy, I got to ask you to do something!
A big favor!
PEGGY: You're not coming!
WALTER into phone: What*? I don't hear you.
HILDY: Now don't get sore and fly off the handle,
darling. What happened was—
PEGGY: You're not! Are you? Tell me, Hildy!
Tell me the truth!
WALTER into phone: Take all those Miss America
pictures off Page 6. Wait a minute, Duffy. Turns.
Now look here, little girl—
PEGGY wheels on Walter: You're doing this to
him! He was going and you stopped him!
HILDY: Something terrific's happened, Peggy!
Wait till I tell you! I couldn't—
WALTER: You'll tell her nothing! She's a wo¬
man, you damn fool!
PEGGY: Well, I'm not going to let you do it!
You're coming right now! With me!
WALTER: Holy God!
HILDY: But it's the biggest chance of my life.
Now listen, .darling—
WALTER frenzied: Shut up, will you?
PEGGY: You don't want to marry me! That's all!
ACT ii Cfye ^rortt page 137
HILDY putting down the typewriter: That ain't
true! Just because you won't listen you're saying I
don't love you when you know I'd cut off my hands
for you! I'd do anything in the world for you! Any¬
thing !
WALTER into phone: Hello, Duffy! What? . . .
What's that? ... To hell with the League of Na¬
tions ! Spike it!
PEGGY: You never intended to be decent and live
like a human being! You were lying all the time!
HILDY: Peggy, don't keep saying that!
WALTER into phone: What's that? What?
PEGGY: Lying! That's what you were! Just
lying!
HILDY his tortured male spirit takes refuge in
hysteria: All right! If that's what you think!
WALTER shouting at the lovers: H. Sebastian
God! I'm trying to concentrate!
PEGGY: I see what you are now! You're just a
bum! Like him—indicates Walter—and all the
rest!
HILDY: Sure! That's what I am!
WALTER into phone: No! Leave the rooster story
alone—that's human interest!
138 £f?c £rortt page act ii
PEGGY: You're just a heartless selfish animal
without any feelings! To Walter: And you're worse!
It's all your fault and if you think I'm going to put
up with it—
WALTER: Shut up, will you? . . . Into phone:
Duffy, let me talk to Butch—
HILDY: Shut up, will you1? Yeah! That's what I
am! A bum! Without any feelings! And that's all I
want to be!
WALTER into phone: Get a hold o' Butch as fast
as you can.
PEGGY: You never did love me or you couldn't
talk to me like that! The desk top opens slowly and
Earl Williams sticks his head out.
WALTER screaming across the room: Get back in
there—you God damn turtle ... The desk top falls,
the fugitive disappears within and Peggy, her heart
break audible in her sobs, moves blindly toward the
door.
HILDY sitting before his typewriter calls after her
his voice tormented but his egoism intact: If you
want me you'll have to take me as I am instead of
trying to turn me into some lah de dah with a cane!
I'm no stuffed shirt writing peanut ads. . . . God
damn it—I'm a newspaper man. . . . Peggy exits,
her sobs filling the room and corridor.
act ii $ront page 139
WALTER: Shut up! Into phone as the curtain is
falling: Hello Duffy! The edition gone in yet? . . .
Well don't. . . . Never mind the mail trains. . . .
You ain't working for the advertising department.
. . . The hell with Marshall Field's!! Stick on this
wire!
HILDY has started typing. The click of the keys
stops suddenly and he rips the piece of copy paper
from the machine. He is not quite himself—he has
made an error in his lead. . . . God damn it
CURTAIN
ACT
The same scene, five minutes later. Hildy is typ¬
ing furiously. Walter is pacing up and down. He
finally picks up the receiver, which has been stand¬
ing on the table. Into phone, with moderate excite¬
ment:
WALTER: Duffy. . . . Duffy! To Hildy: God
damn it! I told him to stay on that phone. If I had
a few people who did what they were told I could
get something accomplished. ... I bet he never told
'em to take taxis. . . . Butch and the gang are prob¬
ably walking over here. . . . hooking out of the win¬
dow: Oh, for Chris* sake . . . Now the moon's out!
Hildy types on. Walter skitters to the desk and taps
three times. Earl taps back three times from within.
Fine! Three taps is me! Don't forget! . . . You're
sitting pretty now. Got enough air? He raises the
roll top an inch or two and fans air in with his hand.
Is that better? Closing the desk and going to phone.
Lam into 'em, Hildy! Below the belt! Every
punch! Into phone, with great sarcasm: Hello! . . .
Duffy! Where the hell you been? Well, the hell with
your diabetes! You stick on this phone! Listen, did
you impress it on Butch to take a taxi—that every
minute counts? Who's he bringing with him? What
do you mean, you don't know! But you told Butch
142 ©je 5ron* ACT 111
it was life and death, huh1? All right, stick on the
wire! 'Putting down receiver. Duffy's getting old.
. . . Well, Butch is on the way, Hildy. All we got
to do is hold out for fifteen minutes. . . .
HILDY over his typing: The boys'11 be back.
They'll be coming in to phone.
WALTER: I'll handle them. It's that three-toed
Sheriff I'm worrying about. If he starts sticking his
snoot into this . . . cudgelling his brain. I wonder if
we could arrest him for anything*?
Hildy has never ceased his typing: Did you ever
get the dope on that stenographer he seduced1?
HILDY over his shoulder: That was the coroner.
WALTER: Haven't we got anything on him—
besides graft?
HILDY thoughtfully: He's got an idiot kid in the
asylum.
WALTER depressed: I don't see how we can use
that against him. Brightening. Wait a minute!
Idiot kid. Idiot kid. . . . He meditates, then sighs:
No, that's impractical. . . Approaching Hildy:
What's your lead?
HILDY with authorly pride: "While hundreds of
Sheriff Hartman's paid gunmen stalked through
Chicago shooting innocent bystanders, spreading
their reign of terror, Earl Williams was lurking less
act hi 5ront Page 143
than twenty yards from the Sheriff's office where . . .
WALTER: That's lousy! Aren't you going to
mention the Examiner? Don't we take any credit?
HILDY: I'm putting that in the second para¬
graph. . . .
WALTER: Who the hell's going to read the sec¬
ond paragraph? Ten years I've been telling you
how to write a newspaper story—My God, have I
got to do everything? Get the story? Write the
story? . . .
HILDY: Listen, you bastard! I can blow better
newspaper stories out of my nose than you can
write!
WALTER cackling: "While hundreds of paid gun¬
men are out taking a walk . . God, that stinks!
You ought to go back to chasing pictures!
HILDY: Yeah?
WALTER: You were good at that!
HILDY: You ungrateful bastard! Who wrote the
Fitzgerald confession? Who wrote Ruth Randall's
diary? How about the Dayton flood? Even the tele¬
graph operator was crying!
WALTER: All right, make me cry now! Into
phone: Duffy! Listen, Duffy. What's the name of
that religious editor of ours? The fellow with the
dirty collar? Sipper what? Well, tell the Reverend
144 £I?e ^rortt page act iii
Sipperly I want to see him right away! ... To
Hildy: Do you know what I'm gonna do4?
HILDY: Shut up, or I'll throw this typewriter at
your head!
WALTER happily: I'm going to get the Reverend
Sipperly to make up a prayer for the City of Chi¬
cago—right across the top of the paper! . . . "Our
Father Who art in Heaven—There were four hun¬
dred and twenty-one murders in Chicago last year!"
All in religious lingo, see1? Eight columns Old Eng¬
lish Boldface! The God-damnedest prayer you ever
heard. . . . Awed at his own resourcefulness. Christ,
what an idea!
HILDY: You better pray that this desk will float
out of the window over to the paper.
WALTER: Wait a minute, Hildy.. . .The 'Pente¬
costal fire upon him. Wait, wait! . . . I got an inspi¬
ration! Now take this down, just as I say it! He
yanks a page from the typewriter.
HILDY leaping: Some day you're going to do that,
Walter, and I'm gonna belt you in the jaw . . . !
You Goddam Know-it-all!
WALTER chanting: Here's your lead: "The Chi¬
cago Examiner again rode to the rescue of the city
last night in the darkest hour of her history! Lower¬
ing his voice: Earl Williams—Earl Williams, the
act hi cfye 5ron* *45
Bolshevik Tiger, who leaped snarling from the gal¬
lows upon the flanks of the city, was captured . . .
HILDY: I got you! I got you! . . .
WALTER: Go on from there! Hildy is hurriedly
putting another sheet into the machine as the door
knob is rattled. A pause.
HILDY: What do you want to do"?
BENSINGER'S VOICE outside: What's the idea
of locking that door?
HILDY: That's Bensinger. That's his desk.
WALTER: What's his name again? The door
knob is rattled violently.
HILDY: Bensinger. Reporter for the Tribune. . . .
Covers the building.
BENSINGER'S VOICE: Open this door, will
you? Who's in there?
WALTER: I'll handle him! The Tribune, eh?
Watch me. He opens the door. Bensinger appears.
BENSINGER entering: Ain't you got any more
sense than to . . . Sees Walter. Is overcome at this
visitation. Oh, hello, Mr. Burns. . . . Why, quite
an honor, having you come over here.
WALTER casually: Hello, Bensinger.
BENSINGER: Excuse me. I just want to—starts
for the desk.
146 cfye page act hi
WALTER blocking his path: Quite a coincidence,
my running into you tonight. . . . Isn't it, Hildy?
HILDY: Yeah.
BENSINGER: How do you mean?
WALTER: I was having a little chat about you
just this afternoon—with Mr. Duffy.
BENSINGER: Is that so? Essaying a pleasantry.
Nothing detrimental, I hope.
WALTER: I should say not! That was one swell
story you had in the paper this morning.
BENSINGER deeply moved: Well, I'm glad you
think so, Mr. Burns. Did you care for the poem?
WALTER: The poem? . . . The poem was great!
I got a big kick out of that.
BENSINGER blinking at these sweet words: Did
you like the ending? He recites:
"and all is well, outside his cell
But in his heart he hears
The hangman calling and the gallows falling
And his white-haired mother's tears . .
WALTER overcome: Heartbreaking! Isn't it,
Hildy? Bensinger, how would you like to work for
me?
BENSINGER: What!
WALTER: I mean it. We need somebody like
act hi tlfye $vont page 147
you. All we got now is a lot of lowbrows and leg¬
men. Like Johnson, here. Pushing Bensinger farther
from the desk. I tell you what you do. Go over and
talk to Duffy now. I just had him on the phone.
You'll catch him if you hurry.
BENSINGER: You mean seriously, Mr. Burns'?
WALTER: I'll show you how serious I am. . . .
Clinging to Bensinger's pants, he takes him to the
phone. Into phone: Duffy! I'm sending Bensinger
over to see you. To Bensinger: Marvin, isn't it?
BENSINGER: No. Roy. Roy V.
WALTER: Funny I should forget that! Into
phone: Roy Bensinger, the poet. Put him right on
the staff!
BENSINGER: Right away, you mean?
WALTER into phone: Never mind what doing . . .
He'll tell you. No, I'll talk salary with him right
here. To Roy: How much you getting on the
Tribune, Roy?
BEN SIN GER: Seventy-five.
WALTER: Bensinger, I'll give you a hundred
and a by-line. Into phone: He's to get a hundred
and a by-line, Duffy. Tell the cashier. Let him
have everything he wants. He can use the big desk
in the corner. To Bensinger, dropping receiver: Now
hustle right over to the office and tell Duffy I've—
148 Cfye ^rortt Page ACT HI
I've assigned you to write the human interest side
of the man hunt. I want it from the point of view
of the escaped man. Acting it out. He hides, cower¬
ing . . . afraid of every light, of every sound . . .
hears footsteps ... his heart going like that . . . And
all the time they're closing in . . . get the sense of
an animal at bay!
BENSINGER: Sort of a Jack London style*?
WALTER: Exactly. Now you ain't got a minute
to lose. Hop right over to the office.
BENSINGER: Well, I don't know about quitting
the Tribune that way, Mr. Burns. It's not quite
ethical. . . .
WALTER: What did they ever do for you? . . .
They've never considered your interests—that is,
from what I hear....
BENSINGER: Well, between you and me they
have given me a pretty rotten deal. The way they
handle my copy's a shame—just butcher it.
WALTER: Your copy will be sacred on the Ex¬
aminer. I guarantee that personally. . . . He edges
Bensinger toward the door.
BENSINGER the artist: You can't lop off the end
of a story and get the same effect. The whole feel¬
ing goes . . .
act hi Cfye £rortt page 149
WALTER: Of course. Now I want a real Bensin-
ger story tomorrow morning, with a cracker jack
poem on the side. He has him nearly to the door.
BENSINGER indicating his desk: I got my rhym¬
ing dictionary in . . .
WALTER: It don't have to rhyme! Now duck!
BENSINGER: Gee, I'm terribly grateful, Mr.
Burns. Pausing in the doorway. Do you suppose
there might be an opening some time as foreign cor¬
respondent? I parlay a little French, you know.
WALTER shaking hands with him and pushing
him out: That'll all depend on your self. I'll keep
you in mind.
BENSINGER on his way to Garcia: Well, au re-
voir, mon capitaine!
WALTER never at a loss in any language: Bon
jour! Walter closes the door and skips to the phone.
Into phone: Duffy! Listen. Now get this! A God
damn Tribune sneak is coming over to get a job.
Yeah, Bensinger, the fellow I told you about. Now
listen, handle him with kid gloves and tell him to
get busy writing poetry. No ... no! We don't want
him. But wait till he gets through. Then tell him
his poetry stinks and kick him down the stairs. . . .
Lays receiver down. To Hildy: His white-haired
mother's tears! Picks up Hildy's copy. Come on,
150 Cfye $rortt page act hi
Hildy, tear into it! Don't sit there like a frozen
robin!
HILDY coming out of the ether: You've just
bitched up my whole life! That's what you've done!
WALTER oblivious to this mood: Listen, Hildy.
We ought to have our plans all set when Butch gets
here. All we can look for out of that guy is pure,
peasant strength ... A mental blank. Sentimentally:
But he'd go through hell for me!
HILDY: What a fine horse's bustle I turned out to
be!
WALTER as before: The window's out. . . . We'll
have him pick it up and walk right out of the build¬
ing with it. With ten guys it'll be a cinch.
HILDY: She was the most wonderful girl I'll ever
know . . . Walter looks at him in horror and disgust:
She had spirit, brains, looks . . . everything!
WALTER: Who the hell you talking about1?
HILDY: My girl! God damn it! Who do you
think?
WALTER: What are you going to do? Start mum¬
bling about your girl nowl You got a story to write!
HILDY: I practically told her to go to hell—like
she was some waitress!
WALTER: You acted like a man for the first
act hi cfye 5vortt page 151
time in your life! Now, don't start crawling now!
HILDY: I'll never love anybody else again! They
don't come like that twice in a man's life.
WALTER: You'll sleep it off. Now, listen, Hildy.
I got enough on my mind!
HILDY: When she was sick in the hospital and
you sent me on that wild goose chase all over Ken¬
tucky for three weeks she never even complained. . . .
WALTER: Ha, ha. Sick in the hospital!
HILDY: Damn it, she was! She nearly died!
WALTER: I see. She didn't complain, but she just
nearly died! That's all!
HILDY almost to himself: I would have been on
the train now ... I would have been . . .
WALTER confidentially: Listen, Hildy. I was in
love once—with my third wife. I treated her white
—let her have a maid and everything! I was sweet
to her!
HILDY: Who cares about your God damned wife ?
WALTER: I trusted her. Then I let her meet a
certain party on the Tribune and what happened?
One night I came home unexpectedly—I let myself
in through the bathroom window—and there they
were! In bed.
152 ©)e $rortt act hi
HILDY: I don't want to hear about your troubles.
I got enough. . . .
WALTER interrupting ecstatically: The very next
morning, what do I find in the Tribune, all over
the front page? My traction story, I'd been saving
for two months!
HILDY: You know a lot about women! You and
your Goddam stable of tarts! You never met a
decent woman! You wouldn't know what to do
with a pure girl! . . .
WALTER owlishly: Oh, yes I would!
HILDY: You take that back!
WALTER deciding to reason with his young friend:
What do you think women are? Flowers'? Take that
dame that shot the dentist! And Mrs. Vermilya!
Husband comes home all worn out, hungry, takes a
spoonful of soup and falls dead! Arsenic! And Mrs.
Petras! Burning her husband up in a furnace! When
you've been in this business as long as I have you'll
know what women are! Murderers! Borgias!
HILDY: My God, I'm a sap! Falling for your
line of crap . . . ! Naming streets after me!
WALTER: Now, listen, Hildy. You've had a good
rest. Get back on the story. That's all you got to
do. . . . Hands him a pocket flask. Here. You're just
nervous. . . .
act hi tlfye $vont page 153
HILDY: I'll take that! . . . Goes to the water
cooler. Pouring: I'll get stewed tonight, and I'm
gonna stay stewed for the rest of my life! Yeah, I'll
be a newspaperman! Right in your class! The door
knob is tried.
WALTER whispering: Shut up!
HILDY: On my pratt in a monkey cage!
WALTER: Shut up, you fathead\ Hildy drinks.
The knocking contitiues. Walter approaches the
door. If that's Bensinger again, we'll crown him
and throw him in the can for keeps! To the door:
Who is it1?
DIAMOND LOUIE outside: Hello, Boss. . ..
WALTER: It's Louie. . . . He opens the door. 'Dia¬
mond Louie appears, bearing some evidence of a mis¬
hap. His hat is crushed, face bruised, clothes torn.
Walter sees this with alarm. My God, what's the
matter!
HILDY frantically: Where's the old lady?
WALTER: What did you do with her"?
HILDY: What the hell happened?
WALTER: You been in a fight?
LOUIE still out of breath: Down Wentworth Ave¬
nue. We were going sixty-five miles an hour, you
know what I mean?
154 ©je <£rortt Page act hi
WALTER: Take the mush out of your mouth!
HILDY: Where's the old lady!
LOUIE: I'm telling you! We run smack into a
police patrol. You know what I mean? We broke
it in half!
HILDY: My God! Was she hurt?
WALTER: Where is she? Tell me! . . .
HILDY: For God's sake, Louie! . . .
LOUIE: I'm telling you. Can you imagine bump¬
ing into a load of cops? They come rolling out like
oranges!
HILDY seizing him: What did you do with her,
God damn you!
WALTER: What became of her, I'm asking you!
LOUIE: Search me! When I come to I was running
down Thirty-fifth street! Get me?
HILDY: You were with her! You were in the cab,
weren't you!
LOUIE exposing his bruised scalp: Was I! Tony
got knocked cold!
WALTER: You God damn butter fingers! I give
you an old lady to take somewhere and you hand
her over to the cops!
LOUIE: What do you mean, I hand her? The
act hi Cfye $vont page 155
patrol wagon was on the wrong side of the street!
WALTER bitterly: Oh, my God! She's probably
squawking her head off in some police station! Now
everything is fine.
LOUIE holding his head: I don't think she's talk¬
ing much, you know what I mean! He winks re¬
assuringly.
HILDY: My God! Was she killed?
WALTER hopefully: Was she? Did you notice?
LOUIE: Say, with that alky rap and the bank job
and the big blow on my hip! I should stick around
asking questions from a lot of cops!
HILDY overcome: Oh, my God! Dead! That
finishes me! . . .
WALTER: Listen, Hildy. That's Fate. V/hat will
be, will be!
HILDY wildly: What am I going to say to Peggy,
for God's sake! What'll I tell her? . . .
WALTER: You're never going to see her again.
Snap out of it! Would you rather have the old
dame dragging the whole police force in here? . . .
HILDY: I killed her! I did it! Oh, my God, what
can I do nowl How can I ever face her? . . .
WALTER becoming the entire Foreign Legion:
156 tEfye $rortt page act hi
Listen, Hildy, if it was my own mother, I'd carry
on, you know I would!
HILDY: You God damn murdering bastard!
WALTER crescendo: No matter how I felt! If my
heart was breaking! I'd carry on! For the paper!
HILDY to Louie: Where was it? I'll go out!
WALTER: You stay here! I'll find out everything!
Into phone: Duffy! ... Just a minute.. . . To Louie:
Where was it?
LOUIE: Wentworth and Thirty-fourth . . . near
the corner . . .
WALTER into phone: Call up the Thirty-fifth
street station and ask Nick Gallagher if he's got a
report on any old lady that was in a smash-up at
Thirty-fourth and Wentworth. ... To Hildy:
What's her name?
HILDY brokenly: Mrs. Amelia Grant.
WALTER into phone: Millie Grant. About . . .
fifty-seven? 'with an enquiring look at Hildy. Re¬
fined. White hair. Blue eyes. Black cotton stockings.
She was wearing rubbers. T0 Hildy, pleased: How's
that for noticing?
HILDY grabbing a phone: Gimme an outside wire.
WALTER: Never mind. We'll get the dope right
here ... in two minutes! Another phone rings.
act hi Cfye Sront page 157
HILDY into phone: Gimme Wentworth, Four, five,
five, seven! . . .
WALTER answering the other telephone in guarded
tones: Hello. Hello. Who? Wildly: Hello, Butch!
Where are you!!
HILDY into phone: Passavant hospital? Gimme
the Receiving Room, will you?
WALTER: Hotel? You mean you're in a hotel?
What are you doing there! Ain't you even started?!
HILDY into phone: Hello, Eddie, Hildy Johnson.
Was there an old lady brought in from an auto
smashup? . . .
WALTER panic: Oh, for . .. Screaming: H. Sebas¬
tian God! Butch! Listen, it's a matter of life and
death, Butch! Listen!
HILDY into phone: Nobody? Jiggles hook: Archer
three one two four. . . .
WALTER into phone: I can't hear you! You got
who? Speak up! A what?!!! . . . Holy God, you
can't stop for a dame now!
HILDY into phone: Is this the German Deaconess
hospital?
WALTER howling: I don't care if you've been
trying to make her for six years! Now, listen, Butch!
Our whole lives are at stake! Are you going to let
158 Cfye £ront page act hi
some blonde pushover ruin everything1? . . . What
do you mean—an hour? It'll be too late in an
hour!
HILDY into phone: Hello, Max. Hildy Johnson.
Was there an old lady . . .
WALTER: Butch!! I'd put my arm in the fire for
you up to here! Indicates up to where. I'd go through
hell for you! Now you ain't gonna double cross
me. . . . She does? All right—put her on the wire.
I'll talk to her. . . . Hello! . . . Oh, hello, Madam!
Now listen here, you God damn bum ... You can't
keep Butch away from his duty! . . . What!
What!!!... What kind of language is that! Hello,
hello ... Turning to Louie hanging up the telephone:
That tub of guts! Lousy whore-headed flannel
mouth! Into phone: Duffy! To Hildy: I'll kill 'em
—both of them! I'll butter this town with their
brains! Into phone: Duffy! To the world: Mousing
around with some big blond Annie! That's co-oper¬
ation! Screaming into Examiner phone: Duffy! . . .
HILDY to Walter: Shut up, will you? Into phone:
You sure! Nobody?
WALTER a howl: Duffy! Throwing the receiver
to the desk. I ought to know better than hire any¬
body with a disease! To Louie, panting: Louie! It's
up to you!
LOUIE loyally: Anything you want, boss.
act hi Cfye $vont page 159
WALTER: Beat it out and get me hold of some
guys, will you?
LOUIE: Who do you want"?
WALTER trembling: I want anybody with hair on
their chests! Get them off the streets—anywhere!
Offer them anything—only get them! Confidential¬
ly: Listen, Louie. We got to get this desk out of
here!
LOUIE surveys the desk calmly: Is it important?
WALTER: Is it important!!! Louie, you're the
best friend I got. I'd go through hell for you and I
know you won't fail me. Get me enough people to
move it! Do you understand that? Now, beat it!
And remember, I'm relying on you!
LOUIE departing: You know me. The shirt off
my back.
WALTER yelling after him: Don't bump into any¬
thing! tie locks the door.
HILDY emotionally, into phone: Calumet two one
hundred . . .
WALTER: That lousy immigrant'll flop on rne!
7 know it. Bitterly: Can you imagine Butch laying
up with some whisker at the Revere House! At a
time like this! Listen Hildy . . . Confidentially: If
Louie don't come back in five minutes, we'll get it
out alone! There's millions of ways! We can start a
160 cfye pcige act hi
fire and get the firemen to carry it out in the confu¬
sion! . . .
HILDY: Do anything you damn please! . . . Into
phone: Ring that number, will you?
WALTER very excited: We don't even have to do
that. We'll get the Chicago Historical Society to
claim it as an antique. We can move it out in a
decent normal manner ourselves! Just the two of us!
HILDY: I don't give a God damn what you do!
WALTER: Come on, Hildy! Come here and see
if we can move it!
HILDY into phone: Hello! Hello! Is this the
Lying-in Hospital1? Did you have an auto accident
in the last hour?
WALTER: Will you come here?
HILDY into phone: Oh, I see. I beg your pardon.
WALTER: Right when I'm surrounded, with my
back against the wall, you ain't going to lie down
on me!
HILDY jiggling the phone hook: I'm going to lay
down on you and spit in your eye, you murderer!
WALTER: Scared, huh? Yellow running out of
your collar!
HILDY: I don't care what you think! I'm going to
act hi Cfye 5ront page 161
find my girl's mother! Madly jiggling the hook: Oh,
for God's sake!
WALTER: Your girl! You and Butch McGuirk!
Woman lovers!
HILDY hangs up phone with a bang: God damn
it! I'm going to go out and find her! Starts for door.
At that instant there comes a loud knock.
WALTER: Who's that? Don't open that!
HILDY: The hell I won't! I'm going to the
morgue! To . . . look! . . . He flings the door open.
The Sheriff, accompanied by two Deputies—Carl
and Frank—surrounded by McCue, Kruger and
Murphy, bar his exit.
THE REPORTERS: Oh, there he is! Say Hildy!
Wait a second, etc. Hildy is struggling past them.
The Sheriff grabs him.
SHERIFF: Just a minute, Johnson!
HILDY: Let go of me! What the hell's the idea?
THE REPORTERS: What's your hurry? We
want to see you! etc.
HILDY: Take your God damn paws off me!
SHERIFF: Hold him, boys!
WALTER to the Sheriff: Who the hell do you
think you are, breaking in here like this?
162 Cfye 5ron* P^ge ACT 111
SHERIFF: You can't bluff me, Burns! I don't
care who you are or what paper you're editor of!
HILDY: God damn it! Let me go! Hysterically:
Let me go, fellas! Something's happened to my girl's
mother!
SHERIFF: Hang on to him!
THE REPORTERS: We know what you're up
to! Going out to get Williams, probably! The door
was locked! He and Mollie were talking! They
know where he is! etc.
HILDY retreating back into the room before Hart-
man and his deputies: Listen, guys! I don't know
anything, I tell you! There's been an accident—I
just been calling up the hospitals! I was just going
out to the morgue to see if she was there! Now . . .
SHERIFF: Johnson, there's something very, very
peculiar going on. . . .
HILDY: Listen, Pinky! You can send somebody
with me if you want to! If you don't believe me!
SHERIFF: I wasn't born yesterday, Johnson. Now
the boys tell me you and Mollie . . .
HILDY: Nobody's trying to put anything over on
you! Now, I'm getting out of here and you can't
stop me!
MURPHY: You're not going anywhere! He's got
ACT HI Cfye 5ron* page i63
the story sewed up, Pete! He and his God damn
boss. That's why he's here!
WALTER purring: If you've got any accusations to
make, Hartman, make them in the proper manner!
Otherwise I'll have to ask you to get out!
SHERIFF pop-eyed: You'll ask me to whatl
WALTER: I'll ask you to get out.
SHERIFF to his deputies: Close that dooi! Don't
let anybody in or out!
MURPHY: Come on, Pinky! Give him a little
third degree!
SHERIFF: Johnson, I'm going to the bottom of
this! Now then, come clean! What do you know
about Williams? Are you going to talk or aren't
you?
HILDY: What the hell do I know about Williams'?
SHERIFF: All right, boys! Take him along. I got
ways of making him talk. Hildy struggles.
HILDY: Look out, you . . . !
McCUE: What's the use of fighting, Hildy? The
reporters swarm around Hildy. Shouts of "I got
him." "No, you don t!" "Hey, what you doing?"
"Paste him!" "Aw, Hildy! What the hell!" etc.
Hildy's voice rises out of the din.
HILDY: Say what the hell's the idea?
164 dje ^rortt page ACT HI
THE DEPUTIES: He's got a gun on him! Look
out! He's got a gun! He's got a gun!
HILDY: No, you don't! Hey, Walter!
WALTER: What is it4? Here!
SHERIFF: Gimme that! Takes the gun.
HILDY resisting: That's mine! . . .
MURPHY: Jesse James, huh! The drug store
cowboy!
McCUE: He's been going to the movies. Two gun
Johnson!
KRUGER: The terror of Wilson Avenue beach!
SHERIFF frozen, looking at the gun: Where did
you get this?
HILDY: I got a right to carry a gun if I want to.
SHERIFF: Not this gun!
WALTER easily: I can explain that, Hartman. He
was having some trouble with the Durkin story
and I gave it to him ... to defend himself!
SHERIFF: Oh, you did! .. .Well, that's very, very
interesting! This happens to be the gun that Earl
Williams shot his way out with!
THE REPORTERS: What? What's that? etc.
WALTER to Hartman: Are you trying to make
me out a liar?
act hi ^rortt Page 165
SHERIFF wildly: I know my own gun, don't I?
MURPHY bitterly to Hildy: Getting married,
huh!
KRUGER: Maybe Williams was gonna be his best
man.
SHERIFF trembling: Where is he? Where you got
him?
WALTER sympathetically: You're barking up the
wrong tree, Hartman . . .
SHERIFF: I'll give you three minutes to tell me
where he is!
HILDY: He went over to the hospital to call on
Professor Eglehofer!
SHERIFF: What!!!
HILDY: With a bag of marshmallows. The
Sheriff stands silent, a gypsy; then streaks "wildly
for the toilet and throws open the door.
WALTER: Take a magazine along.
THE REPORTERS: Come on, Hildy. Where is
he? That's a hell of a trick, Hildy. I thought we
were friends! etc.
SHERIFF rushing back from the toilet: By God,
I'll show you!
THE REPORTERS: Look here, Pete! What about
166 £0}e ^rorit page act iii
Mr. Burns'? Ask the Master Mind! Yeah. What's
he doing over here ? etc.
SHERIFF grabbing Walter's arm: Speak up,
Burns! What do you know about this1?
WALTER gently but firmly disengaging his arm:
Listen Hartman . . .
MURPHY: The hell with that! Where is he?
WALTER continuing: The Examiner is not ob¬
structing justice or aiding criminals. You ought to
know that!
CARL pointing to the Examiner phone: Look!
Somebody was talking on there! The receiver is
off! McCue jumps for the phone.
McCUE: I'll find out who it is . . .
SHERIFF also jumping: Leave that alone! Vm in
charge here!
HILDY: Walter, listen! If I don't get out of
here . . .
SHERIFF: Quiet, everybody! I'll handle this.
It may be Earl Williams.
HILDY: Tell him to come on over.
SHERIFF: Sssh! Into phone, swallowing, then
elaborately disguising his voice: Hello, Earl1?
WALTER smiling: Scotland Yard.
act hi Cfye ^rortt page 167
SHERIFF to McCue, in a whisper: Trace this call
—quick! McCue jumps for another phone: Yes, this
is Walter.
McCUE into another phone: Trace the call on
twenty-one! In a hurry!
SHERIFF into Examiner phone: What? You gotta
do what? Who is this?!!!
WALTER: You're talking to the Examiner, Hawk-
shaw! The Sheriff wheels.
McCUE: That's right, Sheriff!
SHERIFF: Johnson, you're under arrest! You too,
Burns!
WALTER calmly, without moving from his post
at the desk: Who's under arrest? . . . Listen, you
pimple headed German spy, do you realize what
you're doing?
SHERIFF: We'll see about this. Get the Mayor,
Carl! Ask him to come over here! As Carl goes to
the telephone the door opens and Mrs. Grant dis¬
heveled, with her hat over one ear, enters with two
policemen.
FIRST POLICEMAN entering: ... in here,
Madam?
HILDY leaping forward, happily: Mother!
MRS. GRANT to Policeman: That man there!
168 tefye ^rorit page act hi
With the gray necktie! She points accusingly at
Walter.
HILDY hugging her: Mother! Oh, my God, I'm
glad to see you! Are you all right6? Tell me! Mrs.
Grant indignantly shakes Hildy off.
SHERIFF: What's the idea here"?
POLICEMAN: This lady claims she was kid¬
napped !
SHERIFF: What?!!
MRS. GRANT: They dragged me all the way
down the stairs—I tried to get help and they began
to pinch me—I'm black and blue all over! Then
they ran into another automobile and I was nearly
killed! . . .
SHERIFF: Just a minute! What did this man
have to do with it, lady"? He points at Walter.
MRS. GRANT: He was the one in charge of every¬
thing ! He told them to kidnap me!
WALTER amazed: Are you referring to me,
Madam?
MRS. GRANT to Walter: You know you did! You
told them to take me out of here!
SHERIFF: What about this, Burns! Kidnapping,
eh?
act hi cfye ^tortt page 169
WALTER round-eyed: It's beyond me. Who is this
woman ?
MRS. GRANT: Oh! Oh, what a thing to say! I
was standing right there . . . after the girl jumped
out of that window!
SHERIFF: Did you get the Mayor? Was he in?
A DEPUTY: He's coming over.
WALTER to Mrs. Grant: Now, Madame, be hon¬
est, if you were out joy-riding—drunk! . . . and got
in some scrape . . . why don't you admit it instead
of accusing innocent people!
MRS. GRANT beginning to doubt her senses: You
ruffian! You unprincipled man! How dare you say
a thing like that!
HILDY: Please, mother! He's just crazy!
Don't! . . .
MRS. GRANT: I'll tell you something more, offi¬
cer ! I'll tell you why they did it!
WALTER fidgeting: Come on, Sheriff. We've got
to get bail.
MRS. GRANT continuing crescendo: I was in here
and they had some kind of a murderer—hiding him!
This is a bomb shell. The room is electrified by the
old lady's announcement.
SHERIFF: Hiding him! Hiding him! In here?
17° ACT III
MURPHY: Hiding him where!
HILDY: Mother!
THE REPORTERS: Where was he? Where did
they have him'? etc.
WALTER with superb indignation: Madam,
you're a God damn liar! To emphasize his righteous¬
ness Walter pounds on the desk three times—and
then stands horrified. He remembers, too late, the
signal.
REPORTERS: For God's sake, tell us where he
was! Did they tell you where? Tell us! etc.
SHERIFF: Shut up, everybody! Now! Where was
he? Tell me, where he was!
MRS. GRANT: Well, I was sitting right in this
chair. Three answering knocks come from Wil¬
liams. The Sheriff leaps as if the desk had bitten
him.
SHERIFF whispering: What was that?
REPORTERS: My God, he's in the desk! For the
love of Christ! Holy God, he's in there! etc.
SHERIFF: Aha! I thought so! Stand back, every¬
body !
DEPUTY: Look out, Sheriff! He may shoot!
SHERIFF: Get your guns out! The police all take
out guns.
act hi cfye £rortt page 171
HILDY: He's harmless, for God's sake!
SHERIFF: Don't take any chances! Shoot through
the desk!
HILDY: He can't hurt anybody! You got his gun!
MRS. GRANT panic stricken: Oh, dear! Oh, dear!
WALTER to Mrs. Grant: You gray-haired old
Judas!
MRS. GRANT: Let me out! Let me out of here!
Streaks for the door; exits. The reporters are go¬
ing for the telephones.
MURPHY into phone: City desk! Quick!
SHERIFF to policemen: Close the door. You stand
there. You cover the windows. Indicates with his
gun.
MURPHY: Look out where you're pointing that
gun, Pinky!
McCUE into phone: Gimme Emil.
KRUGER into phone: Gimme the city desk.
MURPHY: Hold the wire! I've got a flash for
you.
WALTER to Hildy: Call Duffy.
SHERIFF: No, you don't!
WALTER: Do you want us to get scooped*?
172 £rortt page act in
McCUE into phone: Emil? Hang on for a second.
SHERIFF: Now then! Everybody aim right at the
centre. And when I say three—
HILDY: God damn it! That's murder!
SHERIFF: Carl! Frank! One of you get on each
side of the desk. Take hold of the cover. Now then!
We got you covered, Williams—don't try to move.
Now! Everybody quiet and ready for any emer¬
gency. I'm going to count three.
MURPHY phoning in the silence: I'll have it in
a minute . . .
SHERIFF: One!...
KRUGER: Right away now!
SHERIFF: Two! . . . Diamond Louie enters, ac¬
companied by three people he has picked up in the
street. One is a boy in short pants, the second is a
sailor, the third is a seedy old man of the Trader
Horn type.
POLICEMAN at the door, opposing them: What
do you want? Walter waves violently, Louie and
his assistants disappear.
SHERIFF wheeling: Who was that?
WALTER white with rage: Double crossing
Sicilian!
SHERIFF: Shut up!
act hi tEfye ^rortt page 173
KRUGER into phone: Keep holding it!
SHERIFF: Now then! Keep everybody out of
here! I want quiet! . . . There's a dozen guns on
you, Williams! You can't escape! Do you sur¬
render or not?
WALTER into phone: Duffy!
SHERIFF: Are you ready, boys?
CARL: Yah. . . .
SHERIFF: All right. Now everybody aim right
at the centre, hooking around: Are you all ready?
To the men at the desk: You boys? From the depu¬
ties comes a whispered "Yes." Ready back there?
This to the men at the door and windows; they give
quick nods in reply. All right. Now then—up with
it. Carl and Frank raise the cover. The Sheriff waits
a discreet distance until he sees there is no danger.
Williams is cowering in the desk, his hands over his
face. The Sheriff rushes on him, jabbing his gun
into him.
WILLIAMS a wail: Go on—shoot me!
SHERIFF: Got you, Williams!
THE POLICE AND DEPUTIES: Grab him,
there! That's him! That's him! Don't let him shoot!
Stick 'em up, you! Clout him! Give him the boots!
Hold his arm! Through this the reporters are tele¬
phoning in. As they talk% the police drag the scream-
174 5ront page act hi
ing little anarchist out. The Sheriff follows them.
MURPHY into phone: Earl Williams was just
captured in the press room o' the Criminal Court
building hiding in a desk.
McCUE into phone: The Sheriff just caught Wil¬
liams in a roll top right here in the room.
KRUGER into phone: Just nabbed Williams hid¬
ing in a desk, criminal court press room.
McCUE into phone: Williams put up a desperate
struggle but the police overpowered him.
MURPHY into phone: Williams tried to shoot it
out with the cops but his gun wouldn't work.
KRUGER into phone: Williams was unconscious
when they opened the desk . . .
WALTER into phone: Duffy! The Examiner just
turned Earl Williams over to the Sheriff . ..
The Sheriff rushes back.
SHERIFF indicating Walter and Hildy: Just a
minute! Put the cuffs on those two! The police obey.
Harboring a fugitive from justice!
MURPHY into phone: A well dressed society wo¬
man tipped off the cops. Call you back in a min¬
ute ...
KRUGER into phone: An old sweetheart of Wil¬
liams double crossed him . . . Call you back . . .
ACT III Clje ^rortt Pa3e J75
McCUE into phone: More in a minute.
REPORTERS: Where's that old lady? Hey
madam! . . . Wait a minute! . . . Where's the old
dame? They exit in a hurry.
SHERIFF into phone: Hello, girlie! Gimme
Jacobi! Quick! . . .
WALTER: Hartman . . . you're going to wish for
the rest of your life you'd never been born! The
Mayor enters.
MAYOR: Fine work Pete! You certainly delivered
the goods! I'm proud of you!
SHERIFF over his shoulder as he phones: Look
kind of natural, don't they, Fred1? Referring to the
handcuffs.
MAYOR happily: A sight for sore eyes! Well, it
looks like you boys stepped in something up to your
neck!
HILDY to His Honor: Go on! Laugh! You big
tub of guts!
MAYOR: That's pretty, isn't it? Aiding an escaped
criminal, huh?
SHERIFF rolling in catnip: And a little charge of
kidnapping I'm looking into! Into phone: That's the
jail! There must be somebody over there!
176 Cfye ^rortt page act hi
MAYOR: Well! Looks like about ten years apiece
for you birds.
WALTER: Does it*? Well, whenever you think
you've got the Examiner licked, that's a good time
to get out of town.
HILDY: On a hand car.
MAYOR: Whistling in the dark, eh'? Well, it isn't
going to help you. You're through.
WALTER: Yeah4? The last man that told me that
was Barney Schmidt ... a week before he cut his
throat.
MAYOR: Is that so?
WALTER: And remember George T. Yorke,
blowing his head off with a shot-gun1? We've been in
worse jams than this—haven't we, Hildy*? But
something seems to watch over the Examiner. He
raises his eyebrows.
HILDY: Yeah. When that minister sued us—
remember'? False arrest?
WALTER: Oh, yes . . . Coolly to the Mayor:
The Reverend J. B. Godolphin sued the Examiner
once for ... a hundred thousand dollars. It seems
that we'd called him a fairy. Well, the day of the
trial came and the Reverend was on his way to
court . . .
act hi Cfye £ront page 177
HILDY: With all his lawyers and medical wit¬
nesses.
WALTER orgiastic: Drowned by God! Drowned
in the river! With their automobile, their affidavits
and their God damn law books! And I got the same
feeling right now that I had five minutes before
that accident!
MAYOR: Your luck ain't with you now.
SHERIFF into telephone: Jacobi"? ... I caught
him. Williams. Singlehanded. . . . Yeah. They're
bringing him right over. Notify everybody. We're
going to proceed with the hanging per schedule.
Wiggles telephone for another call.
WALTER to the Mayor: You're going to be in
office for exactly two days more and then we're pull¬
ing your big nose out of the feed bag and setting
you out on your fat can!
SHERIFF: Give me the state's attorney's office.
HILDY: And when you're walking up and down
North Avenue with blue eye glasses selling lead
pencils, we're not going to forget you, either!
SHERIFF merrily: We're going to be selling lead
pencils, eh?
MAYOR: Don't even answer him.
THE SHERIFF: Well, I'll tell you what you'll
178 Cfye £rortt Page act hi
be doing. Making brooms in the state penitentiary.
. . . Into phone: Hello, Pyrstalski? This is Hart-
man. Come right over to my office, will you1? I've
just arrested a couple of important birds. I want
you to take their confessions. Hangs up.
WALTER seizing the "Examiner phone: Duffy!
Get Clarence Darrow!!!!
MAY OR: Get anybody you want! All the Darrows
in the world aren't going to help you!
WALTER: Schmidt, Yorke, Godolphin. ... You're
next, Fred.
MAYOR: The power of the press, huh? Well, it
don't scare me! Not an iota!
SHERIFF: It's a big windbag! That's all it is!
Take 'em along, Carl!
WALTER: Bigger men than you have found out
what it is! Presidents! Yes . . . and Kings! Pincus,
the governor's messenger, reels in, stewed.
PINCUS woozy: Here's your reprieve.
MAYOR seeing him, in panic: Get out of here!
PINCUS: You can't bribe me!
SHERIFF: Get out of here, you!
PINCUS: I won't! Here's your reprieve!
act hi Cfye £rortt page 179
HILDY: What's that*?
PINCUS: I don't want to be city sealer.
MAYOR: Who is this man?
SHERIFF frenzied: Throw him out, Frank!
HILDY seizing Pincus with his free hand: Who
was bribing you? Walter also seizes Pincus, already
being pulled out of shape.
PINCUS: They wouldn't take it! . . .
MAYOR: You're insane!
WALTER: What did I tell you? An unseen power.
What's your name?
PINCUS: Irving Pincus!
MAYOR: You drunken idiot! Arrest him! The idea
of coming in here with a cock and bull story like
that!
SHERIFF: It's a frameup! That's what it is! Some
impostor!
HILDY: Wait a minute! To the deputies: Let go
there!
WALTER: Murder, huh?
HILDY: Hanging an innocent man to win an
election!
SHERIFF: That's a lie!
180 Cfye £rortt page act hi
MAYOR: I never saw him before in my life!
WALTER to I*incus: When did you deliver this
first4?
HILDY: Who did you talk to?
PINCUS: They started right in bribing me!
HILDY: Who's "they"?
PINCUS indicating the Mayor and Sheriff: Them!
MAYOR: That's absurd on the face of it, Mr.
Burns! He's talking like a child!
WALTER really impressed: An unseen power.
MAYOR: Certainly! He's insane or drunk or some¬
thing! Why, if this unfortunate man Williams has
really been reprieved, I personally am tickled to
death! Aren't you, Pete?
HILDY: Go on, you'd kill your mother to get
elected!
MAYOR shocked: That's a hell of a thing to say,
Johnson, about anybody! Now, look here, Walter,
you're an intelligent man . . .
WALTER stopping the Mayor: Just a minute.
To Pincus: All right, Mr. Pincus. Let's have your
story.
PINCUS: Well, I've been married for nineteen
years . . .
act hi 5ront page 181
WALTER: Skip all that.
MAYOR loudly: Take those handcuffs off the boys,
Pete. That wasn't at all necessary. . . .
SHERIFF springing to obey: I was just going
to. . . .
MAYOR: I can't tell you how badly I feel about
this, Walter. There was no excuse for Hartman fly¬
ing off the handle.
SHERIFF busy with the handcuffs: I was only do¬
ing my duty. There wasn't anything personal in¬
tended.
HILDY: You guys had better quit politics and take
in washing. They are set free.
MAYOR: Sheriff. . . . He is looking over the re¬
prieve: This document is authentic! Earl Williams,
thank God, has been reprieved, and the common¬
wealth of Chicago has been spared the painful neces¬
sity of shedding blood.
WALTER: Save that for the Tribune.
MAYOR to Pincus: What did you say your name
was—Pincus ?
PINCUS: That's right. Shows a locket: Here's a
picture of the wife.
MAYOR trapped: A very fine looking woman.
182 Cfye ^ront Page ACT III
PINCUS mysteriously angered: She's good enough
for me. Peggy enters.
HILDY: I'll bet she is.
MAY OR: A real character.
PEGGY: Hildy, what's the matter? What are
they going to do? Mother said—
HILDY seeing her: Peggy, don't bawl me out now.
WALTER: Nobody's going to do anything to any¬
body.
MAYOR: Of course not. My good friend Walter
Burns and I understand each other perfectly, I trust.
SHERIFF eager: And so do I.
MAY OR: So do you what, you God damn hoodoo!
And now, Mr. Pincus, if you'll come with us we'll
take you over to the Warden's office and deliver
that reprieve.
PEGGY: But Hildy, mother said that they'd ar¬
rested you . . .
PINCUS being escorted out by the Mayor: If I was
to go home and tell my wife—
MAYOR: The hell with your wife!
PINCUS drunkenly loyal to his mate: She loves
me. Exit Pincus and the Mayor.
SHERIFF pauses. His eyes lower. He speaks win-
act hi tEfye $vont page 183
ningly: By the way, Walter . . . We were going to
have a little feed after the hanging ... a sort of
buffet breakfast. . . .
MAYOR calling from the corridor: Hartman!
SHERIFF nervously: I'm coming, Fred. Coyly, as
Walter stares: What do you say we eat it now"? . . .
Hmm? Still the dead pan from Walter. Delicious
ham . . . and some of Mrs. Hartman's own pre¬
serves. . . .
MAYOR loudly from the hall: Hartman!!! The
Sheriff sighs. A plaintive shrug indicates that he has
a great deal to contend with. He leaves.
WALTER dreamily: Wait till those two Greeks
read the Examiner to-morrow! Back to life. Hildy,
I'll tell you what I want you to do.
HILDY: What?
WALTER: I want you to get this guy Pincus over
to the office tomorrow—
HILDY: Nothing doing, Walter. I'm all washed
up. I mean it this time, Walter.
PEGGY: Oh, Hildy, if I only thought you did.
HILDY: Listen, Peggy,—if I'm not telling you
the absolute truth may God strike me dead right
now. I'm going to New York with you to-night—
if you give me this one last chance! I'll cut out
184 ^rortt page ACT III
drinking and swearing and everything connected
with the God damn newspaper business. I won't even
read a newspaper.
WALTER: Listen, Hildy, I got an idea . . .
HILDY to Walter: There's nothing you can say
can make me change my mind. This time I'm
through, and I mean it. I know I don't deserve you,
Peggy. I've done everything in the world to prove
that, I guess.
PEGGY: Hildy, please! Don't say things like that.
HILDY: F ve gotta hell of a nerve to ask you to
marry me. I'm a prize package, all right. But if
you'll take me, here I am.
PEGGY: Darling, don't talk that way. I want
you just the way you are. Anyway Peggy will al¬
ways remember that she said this and always forget
that she didn't mean it.
WALTER: God, Hildy, I didn't know it was any¬
thing like this. Why didn't you say something1? I'd
be the last person in the world to want to come be¬
tween you and your happiness.
HILDY staggered: What*?
WALTER: You ought to know that. ... As Hildy
continues to blink: I love you, you crazy Swede!
To Peggy: You're getting a great guy, Peggy.
act hi ^rortt page 185
HILDY: Never mind the Valentines. Goodbye, you
lousy bohunk. They shake hands.
WALTER: You're a great newspaperman, Hildy.
I'm sorry to see you go. Damn sorry.
HILDY: Well, if I ever come back to the busi¬
ness . . . To Peggy: Which I won't ... To Walter,
his arm around Peggy: There's only one man I'd
work for. You know that, don't you1?
WALTER: I'd kill you if you ever worked for
anybody else.
HILDY: Hear that, Peggy4? That's my diploma.
He hesitates: Well, Walter ... I don't know what
to say . . . except I'm going to miss you like hell.
WALTER: Same here, son.
HILDY to Peggy: Twelve years we've been knock-
in around together . . . before you were born. . . .
To Walter his face lighting up: Remember the time
we hid the missing heiress in the sauerkraut factory"?
WALTER: Do I! To Peggy: Get him to tell you
some time about how we stole Old Lady Haggerty's
stomach ... off the coroner's physician. We proved
she was poisoned. . . .
HILDY laughing: We had to hide for a week!
PEGGY: Darling . . .
i86 Cfye ^rortt page act hi
HILDY bach to life: What?
PEGGY: You don't want to go to New York . . .
down deep.
HILDY: Aw . . . what do you mean? I was just
talking. With a nervous laugh: I'd feel worse if I
stayed, I guess. . . .
PEGGY: Hildy, if I thought you were going to
be unhappy—I mean, if you really wanted to—
Firmly: No. No. It's your chance to have a home
and be a human being—and I'm going to make you
take it.
WALTER to Peggy: Why, I wouldn't let him
stay. . . . Go on, Hildy, before I make you city
editor.
HILDY starting: Hurry up, Peggy. He means it.
WALTER as Peggy follows: Any objection to my
kissing the bride?
HILDY stopping: It's O. K. with me. He looks at
Peggy. She smiles. Go ahead, Mrs. Johnson.
WALTER removing his hat and hissing her
chastely: Thank you. . . . What time does your
train go?
PEGGY: There's another one at twelve-forty. To
Hildy: We came awfully near going without you.
WALTER: New York Central, eh? To Hildy: I
act hi Cfye *^7
wish there was time to get you a little wedding
present . . . but it's awful short notice.
PEGGY straining to be gone: Thank you, Mr.
Burns, but Hildy's all the wedding present I want.
. . . Laughing a little: If I've really got him.
HILDY: Ah, forget it, Walter. He, too, is leaving.
WALTER: Hold on! I want you to have some¬
thing to remember me by. You can't just leave like
this. . . . Thoughtfully reaching for his watch: And
I know what it's going to be. ... Produces the watch.
HILDY embarrassed: Aw, Jesus, no, Walter! You
make me feel like a fairy or something!
WALTER with affected brusqueness: Shut up!
You're going to take it, I tell you! It was a present
from the Big Chief himself! And if you'll look in¬
side . . . Opening the watch: You'll find a little in¬
scription: "To the Best Newspaperman I know."
. . . When you get to New York, you can scratch
out my name and put yours in its place, if you want
to. . . .
HILDY: You know I wouldn't do that. . . .
WALTER: Here. . . . Giving him the watch.
HILDY: Aw, Walter! It's too good for me! I
can't take it!
WALTER: You got to! To Peggy: Make him!
i88 tojc ^ortt page act hi
PEGGY: Go on, Hildy ... if Mr. Burns wants you
to. You don't want to hurt his feelings. . . . Hildy
takes it. Walter pats him on the shoulder, his face
averted.
HILDY a lump in his throat: Well, this is the first
and last thing I ever got from a newspaper. . . .
PEGGY: Goodbye, Mr. Burns. ... I always had
a queer opinion of you, Mr. Burns. I still think
you're a little peculiar, but you're all right . . . un¬
derneath. I mean I think you're a peach.
WALTER winningly: So are you! You look just
like a little flower!
HILDY ushering Peggy out: Goodbye, you big
baboon. . . .
PEGGY: Goodbye. . . . They exit.
WALTER calling after, leaning against the door:
Goodbye, Johnson! Be good to yourself . . . and the
little girl. . . .
HILDY'S VOICE: The same to you and many of
them!
Walter waits till Hildy and Peggy are out of sight
and earshot, then closes the door. He walks slowly
to the telephone. The receiver is still off the hook,
the obedient Duffy still on the other end. Walter
hesitates sentimentally, the receiver in his hand.
Then he heaves a huge sigh and speaks:
act hi Ct)£ ^rottt page 189
WALTER: Duffy! . . . He sounds a bit tired: Lis¬
ten. I want you to send a wire to the Chief of Police
of La Porte, Indiana. . . . That's right. . . . Tell him
to meet the twelve-forty out of Chicago . . . New
York Central . . . and arrest Hildy Johnson and
bring him back here. . . . Wire him a full descrip¬
tion. . . . The son of a bitch stole my watch!
CURTAIN
EPILOGUE
This epilogue is one of apology.
When we applied ourselves to write a newspaper
play we had in mind a piece of work which would
reflect our intellectual disdain of and superiority to
the Newspaper.
What we finally turned out, as the reader may
verify if he will, is a romantic and rather doting tale
of our old friends—the reporters of Chicago.
It developed in writing this play that our con¬
tempt for the institution of the Press was a bogus
attitude; that we looked back on the Local Room
where we had spent half our lives as a veritable
fairyland—and that we were both full of a nostalgia
for the bouncing days of our servitude.
The same uncontrollable sentimentality operated
in our treatment of Chicago which, as much as any
of our characters, is the hero of our play.
The iniquities, double dealings, chicaneries and
immoralities which as ex-Chicagoans we knew so
well returned to us in a mist called the Good Old
Days, and our delight in our memories would not be
denied.
As a result The Front Page, despite its oaths and
realisms is a Valentine thrown to the past, a Ballad
(to us) full of Heim Weh and Love.
So it remains for more stern and uncompromising
intellects than ours to write of the true Significance
of the Press. Therefore our apology to such bom-
binators, radicals, Utopians and Schoengeisten who
might read this work expecting intellectual mayhem.
In writing it we found we were not so much
dramatists or intellectuals as two reporters in exile.
—The Authors.
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