Here Comes a Candle, page 10
ALVIN: Hi, boys. Long time no see. Come in.
They enter. Montoya has a package under his arm and puts it on the kitchen table. He takes off his hat and, after looking around, puts it on the icebox. Anders keeps his cap on but shoves it back.
MONTOYA: How you doing, Al?
ALVIN: Not so hot, I guess.
MONTOYA: Not like the old days when you used to work for me huh, Al? Well, maybe those days’ll come back. Good old Prohibition, huh, Al? They knocked off the big money when they knocked it out.
He sits down in the chair Al Bailey has just left. Anders pulls up another chair. Obviously, they intend to stay a while.
MONTOYA: Where’s the wife? Gone to work?
From the way he asks, you get the impression that he already knew. Al Bailey merely nods. He starts to pull up another chair, the only one left in the kitchen, but Montoya stops him.
MONTOYA: Get some glasses, Al, huh? That’s a quart in the package. Thought you might like a drink. For old lang syne. Heard you’ve been down on your luck and we thought we might cheer you up a little. Didn’t we, Dutch?
ANDERS: Sure,
Al Bailey has already been eyeing the package, which is obviously a bottle.
ALVIN: Swell of you, Tony. God can I use a drink.
He moves out of range of camera. Anders picks up the bottle and unwraps it, wadding the paper and throwing it in the general direction of the sink. Montoya picks up the deck of cards with which Bailey has been playing solitaire and starts to riffle them. Anders works the cork out of the bottle as Al Bailey, carrying three tumblers, comes back into the scene. He puts the glasses down on the table and gets the other chair as Anders pours three drinks.
ALVIN (again): God, can I use a drink.
MONTOYA: To you, Al.
ANDERS: Yeah.
They drink.
MONTOYA: Hell of a shame, Al. You, the best bartender in Chi—under Andy Volstead. And now that it’s legal to tend bar they won’t give you a license. Just because of a couple of little spots on your record. Just because you—
ALVIN (quickly, warningly, moving his head slightly in the direction of Joe, playing in the corner): Little pitchers!
MONTOYA: Sure, Al. Well, I’m in the same spot. Can’t get a license to run a bar. The good old days. Gone forever, I guess. Look, how about a little stud, just to fill in some time. Small stakes.
ALVIN: With what, Tony? By me, I mean. I got twelve cents. Twelve Goddam cents to my name. If Flo gets any tips at the restaurant tonight we eat tomorrow. Honest, boys, I’m strapped. Do you think this Goddam Depression will ever end? He leans forward, suddenly serious; you see that he’s seriously interested in Montoya’s opinion.
MONTOYA (equally serious): Damn if I know, Al. Way things are going, I don’t know. Maybe we’re going to have a revolution or something. Or else we got to get a guy in here like Italy’s got—Mussolini.
ALVIN (thoughtfully): I don’t know, Tony. This Mussolini—
He glances at the bottle and pretty obviously decides that he’d better not look a gift horse in the mouth—or argue with its giver.
MONTOYA: Oh, the hell with politics. Let’s be cheerful. Me, I’m going to get by, whatever happens. Let’s play a little stud anyway, to kill time. We won’t play for much and if you lose, you can owe me.
ALVIN: I owe you twenty already, and for a hell of a long time.
Montoya shrugs.
MONTOYA: So what? Maybe you’ll win it back and won’t owe me anything. Don’t worry about me, Al. I still got a little, and I know how to get more. Maybe I might even let you in on it if you get to owing me enough so that I get worried about it. Got any chips?
ALVIN: Christ, Tony. No.
MONTOYA: No, what? You mean you ain’t got any chips?
Al’s face is interesting. At the word “chips” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out change, two nickels and two pennies. He looks at them and laughs, but not with amusement.
ALVIN: Sure. I got lots of chips.
MONTOYA: Get ’em. Let’s play some stud.
ALVIN: What’s the racket?
Montoya grins and imitates Alvin’s motion of head toward the boy playing in the corner of the room.
MONTOYA: Little pitchers. It’s nothing much, Al. I just thought the three of us might take in a movie tonight—the Walton, over on Walton Street.
Camera has panned across to Joe Bailey, playing in corner, as Montoya speaks. There is a change of tone of voice after “Little pitchers” that makes Joe look up toward the men seated at the table. But there is nothing in Joe’s face that tells you whether or not he understands the significance of what is being said. As he looks down again—
FADE OUT
FADE IN
4. Same three men seated around table, a little later. They are now playing stud poker, Montoya and Anders have taken off their suit coats and hung them over the backs of their chairs. Alvin Bailey is cautiously lifting the corner of his hole card.
MONTOYA: Costs you a quarter, Al.
ALVIN: I’ll stay. I’m out fifteen bucks now; what’s another two bits?
MONTOYA: Forget it, Al. I’ll take it out of your cut of—tonight. It’s all cased, Al. A lead pipe cinch.
ALVIN: What time? What’s the score? Talk so that—
He jerks his head toward the corner.
MONTOYA: Ten-thirty the B. O. closes. They take the—the stuff to the manager’s office and start counting it. We’re inside, last row, watching the show. All we need is some rope to tie up—you know what. And three—uh—
ALVIN: Got an extra one? I had one, but it’s in hock.
MONTOYA: Everything we need’s in the car. I figure we get there about ten. Leave here half past nine. Okay?
Camera has been moving around table until it faces Alvin Bailey over Montoya’s shoulder.
ALVIN (a little louder than he has been speaking previously):
No, Tony. I can’t. (He winks elaborately.) I promised Flo that I’d stay home with Joe, so I’d better. I’ll go to a movie with you some other time.
MONTOYA: (winking back): Sure, Al. Some other time.
ALVIN: Joey, it’s time you started to bed.
JOE: Can’t I f-finish this, P-Pop?
He holds up object he has been making with the Tinkertoy.
ALVIN: Look, Joey, you be a real good boy tonight and go right to bed and to sleep—and without any stalling—and I’ll give you a dime.
MONTOYA: Make it two bits, if he really shows some speed.
He shoves a quarter across the table to Alvin.
ALVIN: Sure, Joey. I’ll make it a quarter. Now really get a wiggle on, huh?
Joe’s eyes widen at the mention of so much money. He starts quickly to pick up the unused pieces of Tinkertoy and to return them to the box.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
5. Closeup of cheap tin clock on top of kitchen cabinet. Hands stand at half past nine. We hear it ticking loudly.
CUT TO
6. The three men at the kitchen table. The cards have been pushed aside. Montoya getting up, very quietly, and putting his coat on. All of ensuing conversation in very low tones of voice.
MONTOYA: Come on, Al. Get your coat. And be quiet about it.
ALVIN: I’ll have to make sure he’s asleep.
MONTOYA: Hell, he’s asleep. He’s been in bed over an hour.
ALVIN: Yeah, but—
MONTOYA: Call him and you’ll wake him up. Let’s just sneak out.
ALVIN: But if he is awake—
MONTOYA: Leave the light on in here; that’s all you gotta do. If he wakes up and sees there’s a light, he’ll go back to sleep. Hell, Al, you’ll be back here in two hours. What can happen in two hours? And you’ll be back with a couple hundred bucks in your kick.
DISSOLVE TO
7. Close-up of Alvin’s face. It shows indecision, concern. As one emotion struggles with another we hear echo chamber effect repeat last seven words that Montoya has spoken in previous scene.
ECHO CHAMBER VOICE: A couple hundred bucks in your kick.
VOICE OF MONTOYA (normal): Sure, go on and wake up the kid by asking him if he’s asleep. Dutch and I can get by without you. Two’s enough for that job; we were just cutting you in.
ALVIN: Okay, okay.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
8. Door of kitchen (the one leading to the hallway) closing very quietly. But the click oí the latch is audible.
SLOW DISSOLVE TO
9. Bedroom. Joe in child’s size bed. Background music, very soft: Rachmaninoff’s Isle of the Dead. Joe is sitting up in bed; his eyes are wide and he is obviously listening hard. Light comes from a dim bulb in a lamp near the head of the bed, left on as a night light. There is a look of near panic on Joe’s face as he throws back the covers and, in one-piece cotton flannel pajamas a bit small for him, gets out of bed and runs to the lamp. He pulls a chain and the scene brightens as a bright bulb goes on beside the dim one. Camera follows him as he goes to door of bedroom (closed) and opens it. Living room is dark but through it we can see open door to kitchen and the fact that the kitchen is lighted. Camera stays still as, through bedroom doorway we see Joe’s back as he runs across dark living room into kitchen. He stands just inside kitchen doorway and we see his head turn as he looks around. We see his face as he comes back and there is more than a hint of panic in it now. But instead of running, he walks very straight and deliberately now, holding himself under control. As he walks through living room he flips a switch, turning on the lights in that room also. He leaves bedroom door open, walking straight toward the camera, walking into a close-up.
DISSOLVE TO
10. Joe back in bed, this time half sitting, half lying; he has two pillows on end against the head of the bed. His knees are bent and he has a child’s picture book resting against them. Music has stopped at change of scene. However, we now hear the sound effect of Scene No. 5, the ticking of a clock. Joe’s eyes are sleepy. He is obviously trying to keep awake by looking at the pictures.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
11. Same scene. Joe has fallen asleep. Book is on floor beside the bed. The lights seem dimmer; the camera has moved back so most of the room is visible, including door to living room. Again there is a sound effect instead of music; a kettledrum, tuned low, is being thumped to the exact rhythm of the ticking clock in the previous scene. Kettledrum continues at exactly same tempo and volume throughout this scene. Camera lens should be slightly out of focus to give a blurred, unreal effect, Joe slowly sits up in bed and his eyes open, although he is obviously, from the glazed stare in them, not awake.
On one side of the bed, in mid-air about four feet from the floor, appears a candle (lighted) in an old-fashioned candle-holder with a curved handle. Its outlines, especially that of its flame, are wavery and distorted. It starts to grow larger in size and, simultaneously, the other lights gradually go out and the only source of light is the growing candle. It grows rapidly and by the time it is four feet tall (the candleholder now two feet from the floor the flame six feet from the floor) it is throwing a very bright light on Joe’s terrified face, but the corner of the room on the opposite side of Joe’s bed from the monstrous candle gets darker, as though all the darkness dispelled by the light of the candle is gathering there. Something stirs in the darkness there; we see it only as a vaguely apelike shadow, darker than the darkness around it; it holds an ax.
The throbbing of the kettledrum continues, Joe sits in bed. staring unseeingly straight into the lens of the camera. He looks neither toward the candle—now six feet high—on one side of him nor toward the vague shadowy figure with the ax on the other side, yet obviously he is horribly aware of both.
The candle, now resting on the floor and eight feet tall, starts to bend over toward him, bending in a curve toward his head. On the other side of him, the shadow with the ax takes a shuffling step toward him. Joe suddenly comes out of the almost cataleptic state in which he has been sitting. He screams, almost falls over the foot of the bed, and runs toward the door.
CUT TO
12. Kitchen door. Same as Scene No. 8 but wavery, distorted. We see Joe’s back as he runs to the kitchen door, throws it open and runs out, leaving it open behind him. Silence—no sound effects for padding of his feet, opening of door, etc.
Camera pans rapidly forward through kitchen door after Joe and goes to edge of stair well in hallway, tilting down over banister. Looking downward, we see Joe running madly down the stairs.
CUT TO
13. Exterior of front door and stone steps leading down to sidewalk. Camera just beyond curb, tilted upward at front door. Photography and sound effects (street noises) normal. Night. Door bursts open and Joe comes running out, barefooted and in his pajamas. He runs down the steps toward the camera, turns right (north). Camera swivels so we see him running away from us, north on the east side of Dearborn Street toward Chestnut Street. As he recedes into distance.
CUT TO
14. Camera is in back seat of squad car cruising north on Dearborn Street. We see the heads of two policemen (BENZ and FOGARTY) in the front seat, and between their heads we see through the windshield. Far ahead, on the sidewalk we catch sight of the running figure of Joe Bailey.
BENZ (who is driving car) : Hey, lookit that kid in pajamas up ahead. Looks like the devil’s after him.
FOGARTY: Yeah. Maybe we better—
Benz has already stepped on the gas; the car speeds up to overtake Joe.
BENZ: I’ll pull in ahead of him. You step out and scoop him up.
Car speeds up faster and camera swivels so we see Joe from the side as car passes him. Then it becomes a front view of him running toward us.
15. Squad car stopping at curb. We hear brakes applied. Door opens and Fogarty steps out, just in time to catch Joe as Joe runs into scene past camera.
FOGARTY: What’s the matter, kid?
Joe doesn’t struggle, now that he’s caught and firmly held.
BENZ: Looks to me like he was walkin’ in his sleep, Foggy.
FOGARTY: Hell of a fast walk. Come on, kid, wake up. Having a nightmare, huh?
He shakes Joe a little, gently, to help him awaken. Joe starts to cry.
BENZ: Let’s get him in the car. It’ll take him a minute or two to snap out of it. Come on, kid.
He takes Joe’s other arm. Camera swings around to show them getting in car.
CUT TO
16. Front seat of squad car, as though through windshield. Joe, looking reasonably awake and over the worst of his fright, is seated between the two policemen. The car is moving slowly, Benz driving.
FOGARTY: Yeah, he’s coming out of it. Good idea to drive around the block while we talk to him; I think it helps some. You say your name is Joe Bailey, kid?
Joe nods.
FOGARTY: But you don’t know the number of your house, the house you ran out from?
Joe shakes his head, and a touch of fear returns to his eyes. Obviously the idea of returning to be alone in the flat again terrifies him. He isn’t telling.
FOGARTY (to Benz): He couldn’ta come more than a couple blocks that way, and it’d been somewhere on Dearborn. He was running too fast to make any corners.
BENZ: TWO blocks is a lot of territory. Where are your parents, Joe? Where’s your mother?
JOE: W-working. She’s a w-waitress.
BENZ: What restaurant?
Joe shakes his head again.
FOGARTY: Where’s your old man? Your father?
JOE: A m-m-movie.
FOGARTY: Well, guess we’ll just have to take him in to the station. Hell, all the Goddam red tape and everything. (He is obviously reluctant to do so, and so is Benz. He tries again.) Joe, if we drive up and down Dearborn Street a few blocks, don’t you even know the outside of your house when you see it? Can’t you point it out to us?
Joe’s lips clamp tightly. He shakes his head violently.
FOGARTY: Hell, the kid’s afraid to go back, Charlie. He knows where he lives all right; he had a nightmare and he’s afraid to be alone again. He’s—How old are you, Joe?
JOE: S-six.
FOGARTY: Any kid six knows his own house when he sees it, and his address, too. He won’t tell us because he’s afraid to go back. I’d like to tell off his old man, leaving him alone like that, his age. (Sigh) Well, we’ll just have to take him in.
A new kind of fear shows in Joe’s face. These policemen have been friendly; he is not afraid of them. But being taken in—he thinks to jail—is something else again. But to go back to the house and be there alone is unthinkable. Neither of the policemen happens to be watching his face or the sudden terrific struggle that is going on there. He opens his mouth as though he is going to speak, clamps it shut again, and then
JOE: Pop went to the Walton Theater on Walton Street with two men one of them was named Montoya.
He has blurted this out so rapidly that the words almost run together and it is said in a flat monotone. For the first time in this sequence he has spoken without stuttering. Both policemen turn to look at him curiously because of the sudden change in his manner, and because of the odd flat way in which the sentence was spoken. For a second there is silence.
FOGARTY: That’s only a few blocks, Charlie. Let’s go there and find his old man. I’d like to tell him off.
BENZ: How’d you find him? We can’t carry the kid all through the audience or anything.
FOGARTY: If it’s the same Montoya—Say, kid, is this Montoya’s first name Tony? Does your old man call him Tony? Joe nods.
FOGARTY: I know him, then. He’s been in line-up. He’s a bad boy. Drive around there, Charlie. You keep the kid in the car and I’ll go in and spot Montoya and find the kid’s father that way.
BENZ: Okay.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
17. Front of Walton Theater. Camera in middle of street takes in lobby, ticket booth (closed) and sidewalk and curb in front. Montoya, Anders and Alvin Bailey push their way through the double exit door that leads from the foyer info the lobby. Each of the three has his right hand in his suit coat pocket. Montoya carries a brief case in his left hand. All three are trying to walk casually but are, despite the effort, both furtive and quite tense. When they are about half way through the theater lobby, walking toward the camera, the squad car containing Benz, Joe Bailey and Fogarty pulls in to the curb and stops; car cuts off view of ticket booth and one side of lobby, but not the side along which the three men are walking.
