jl #A-32354 4
10 CONTINUED 10
MISS ALCOTT
Antoine? Is Mr. Lane there?...
Did he have lunch there?...But he's
not there now...Well, if he should
come in -- would you tell him to
please get in touch with his office
right away?...Yes, this is his
secretary. Thank you.
She cradles the phone - then lets her eyes wander over Lane's
desk.
11 THE DESK - MISS ALCOTT'S POINT OF VIEW 11
Camera roams the desk, holding first a photograph of a
beautiful woman, obviously taken many years ago...then a
doodled calendar with the day's date circled and starred, and
a scribbled notation which reads, "Quarter of a Century!!!"...
then, panning down, camera reveals finally, peeking forth
from the partially-open top desk drawer, a whiskey bottle.
12 BACK TO SCENE 12
As Miss Alcott slams the drawer shut, begins tidying up the
desk. She glances up, startled, as the door opens. Lane
stands there. Late 40's, a little balding, a suggestion of
a pot-belly, the eyes tired and set deep in a good face
that was once young and handsome. He's also had a few, and
this, too, is noticeable. With a grin:
LANE
How do, madam. Could I interest
you in a line of plastics?
MISS ALCOTT
It's three o'clock.
Lane brings his wristwatch to within an inch of one eye,
Focussing with difficulty on the dial.
LANE
So it is. Inexorable time in its
flight.
(moving to desk)
But what the devil. This is a
special day.
MISS ALCOTT
...I know.
LANE
(squints at her;
then)
On this day, twenty-five years ago,
CONTINUED
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jl #A-32354 5
12 CONTINUED 12
LANE (Cont'd)
having conquered Europe for General
Eisenhower and President Truman,
I doffed my khaki -- and I enlisted
in the cause of Pritkin's Plastic
Products. Twenty-five years, Miss
Alcott. A quarter of a century!
(shrugs, unsteadily
seating himself)
So what the devil. If a man can't
get a little sauced on this kind
of anniversary -- where does that
leave the flag and motherhood?
(peers at desk)
Any messages?
MISS ALCOTT
(trying to keep the
concern from her
voice)
Mr. Pritkin was looking for the
Carstair order. And Mr. Doane
took it in to him.
13 ANOTHER ANGLE - TIGHTER SHOT - THE TWO 13
Lane looks up, the smile a little worn around the edges.
LANE
Mr. Doane took it in to him.
(a hollow chuckle)
Johnny-on-the-spot Doane! With
assistants like him -- who needs
assassins?
He leans back in his chair, arms folded behind his head.
MISS ALCOTT
You did most of that report.
LANE
(a little shrug)
What difference? You see before
you, Miss Alcott, a man much too
old and set in his ways, and at the
moment a little too deep in his cups,
to give battle to the Young Turk in
the cubicle to my immediate left.
MISS ALCOTT
(anger surfacing)
The Young Turk you refer to is
made up of one half-brass and one-
CONTINUED
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gc #A-32354 6
13 CONTINUED 13
MISS ALCOTT (cont'd)
half elbow, and his mission in life
is to push you right out of the
picture...Are you aware of that?
LANE
(smiles wistfully)
You know where I've been the last
hour? I've been watching them
tear down Timothy Riley's Bar. Now
that doesn't mean anything to you,
does it?
|
LANE
Nope. It's an ancient, ugly eye-
sore which will now be turned into
a twenty-story bank building with
an underground parking lot -- and
it'll have glass walls and floures-
cent lighting and high-speed, self-
service elevators and piped-in music
in the lobby...And a year from now,
nobody will remember that Tim Riley
had a bar on that corner. Or that
he sold beer for a nickel a glass.
Or that he had snooker tables in
the back. Or that he had a big
nickelodeon and you got three Glenn
Millers for a dine.
(laughs softly,
leaning elbows on
the desk)
And while I was standing there with
all the other sidewalk superintend-
ents, it occurred to me...the
thought occurred to me that there
should be some kind of ceremony.
Maybe a convocation of former beer
drinkers and Timothy Riley patrons to
hang a wreath or say a few words.
Farewell, Timothy Riley's Bar --
home of the nickel beer -- snooker
emporium -- repository of Blue Bird
records, three for a dime...We honor
you and your passing. Farewell,
CONTINUED
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