Bad Day at Black Rock

Stopping?

Man, they look woebegone and faraway.

I'll only be here 24 hours.

In a place like this, it could be a lifetime.

- Good luck, Mr. Macreedy.

- Thank you. Thanks very much.

You for Black Rock?

- That's right.

- There must be some mistake.

I'm Hastings, the telegraph agent.

Nobody told me this train was stopping.

- They didn't?

- No, I just told you they didn't.

And they ought to.

What I want to know is, why didn't they?

- Maybe they didn't think it was important.

- Important?

It's the first time the streamliner

stopped here in four years.

You being met?

You visiting folks or something?

I mean, what do you want?

I want to go to a place called Adobe Flat.

Are there any cabs available?

Adobe Flat? No cabs.

Hotel open?

Is the hotel open?

Thank you.

Pete, now listen.

A man just got off the train

and asked for Adobe Flat.

Afternoon.

Anything I can do for you?

- You run this hotel?

- No.

Then there's nothing you can do for me.

Find Smith.

Hello. Like a room.

- We're all filled up.

- Have you any idea where I could...

This is 1945, mister.

There's been a war on.

It ended a couple of months ago, didn't it?

Yeah, but the OPA lingers on.

- You don't know about the OPA?

- No, you tell me.

Well, for establishments

with less than 50 rooms...

the hotelkeeper's got to report regularly...

about tenants and registration.

There are penalties imposed.

- You seem to have lots of vacancies.

- Well, as I said...

They're every one of them locked up.

Some are showrooms...

for feed salesmen, cattle buyers.

The rest, they're spoken for.

Rented to cowboys, ranch hands

for when they come into town.

They pay by the month.

We provide for their every wish

and comfort.

- Do you understand?

- No, not exactly.

But while I'm pondering it,

why don't you get a room ready for me?

That will be a good one.

I'd like to have a bath. Where is it?

- At the head of the stairs.

- Thank you.

I don't know why you're so interested,

but the name is Macreedy.

- It's all in the ledger.

- You look like you need a hand.

John J. Macreedy, Los Angeles.

I want to know everything he does, Pete.

Phone calls, mail...

In the meantime?

In the meantime, I crowd him a little.

See if he's got any iron in his blood.

I guess maybe you're in the wrong room.

Do you think so?

What else you got on your mind?

Why, nothing else, I guess.

If you had half a mind, boy, you would

have paid attention to what Pete said.

He said these rooms here

is for us cowboys.

For our every wish and comfort.

- And this one is yours, I guess?

- When I'm in town.

And I'm in town, as any fool can see.

You can see that, can't you, boy?

Yes, I guess so.

Would you mind

if I sort of got my things together...

and found another room?

Not at all.

But if you really wanted this room...

we can maybe settle your claim

without all this talk.

I believe a man's nothing unless

he stands up for what's rightfully his.

What do you think?

- I guess so.

- You guess so.

But you still ain't claiming this room?

No, I guess not.

You're all the time guessing,

ain't you, boy?

Don't you know anything?

Well, I know that

ever since I got off the train...

everybody's been needling me. Why?

I guess I rightfully don't know.

He walks light for a big man, doesn't he?

- Who?

- You know who.

What do you think, Doc?

Why ask me?

He's no salesman, that's sure.

Unless he's peddling dynamite.

Maybe he's a cop or something.

- You ever see a cop with a stiff arm?

- Maybe his arm's all right.

Maybe he's hanging on to something tight

in his pocket.

Like what? A pistol?

A stick of TNT, so he can blow up

the whole mangy, miserable town?

Why are you so interested, Sam?

If I was that interested...

I'd ask him.

Hey, wait a minute.

Got any cigarettes?

How long you staying?

Where? In my new room? I'm staying.

I mean, in the hotel.

Twenty-four hours, why?

Just asking.

Why? Are you gonna have a convention?

I was just asking.

- Where can I get a car?

- I don't know.

Let's put it this way.

Supposing I had a car

and I wanted some gas.

- Where would I go?

- But you don't have a car.

You might try that garage

down at the end of the street.

Thank you.

Here we go again.

This is all I know about him, Mr. Smith.

Sit down, Coley.

- I was only...

- Sit down.

Real cool guy.

Doesn't push easy, huh?

Well, that's it. That's just it.

He pushes too easy.

- Maybe we ought...

- What do you want, Doc?

Nothing. I was just wondering

what all you people are worrying about.

Not that I have the slightest idea.

You wonder too much

and you talk too much.

It's a bad parlay, Doc.

I hold no truck with silence.

I've got nothing to hide.

- What are you trying to say?

- Nothing, man.

You worry about the stranger only

if you look at him from a certain aspect.

How do you look at him, Doc?

With the innocence of a fresh-laid egg.

Keep it up, Doc. Make bad jokes. Be funny.

Someday I'll have Coley

wash your mouth out with lye.

I called the Circle T.

He ain't got business there

if they don't know him. Right, Mr. Smith?

Send a wire to Nick Gandi in Los Angeles.

Tell him to find out everything he can

about John J. Macreedy.

- What was that?

- Nick Gandi, Los Angeles.

Tell him I wanna know fast.

- Sign my name.

- Who was that?

Nick Gandi.

G-A-N-D-I. Blake Hotel.

You get the rest of it?

- Yes, sir.

- All right. Sign my name.

Who's Gandi?

Private detective.

I drive to LA now and then.

This guy Gandi can get us the dope?

He can get us anything we want

for $20 a day and expenses.

Don't get too nervous too fast, Hector.

- It's just I don't like it.

- Maybe he's just passing through.

Don't bet on it. He can mean only trouble.

Hector, you're jumpy as a stall horse.

We ought to see him. Talk to him.

About what?

What will I talk to him about?

The birds, the bees,

the crops, the weather?

You tried it. What'd it get you?

- It's just I thought that...

- You just thought.

Well, what'll we do?

What'll you do?

You'll wait, just like Pete here.

That right, Pete? And that's all you'll do.

- And while you wait, I'll talk to him.

- Hey, what do you know?

Mr. Macreedy seems to be heading

for the jail.

Now, what do you suppose

he'd wanna talk to the sheriff about?

Hold it, friend.

I ain't hankering to get locked

in my own jail.

I'm sorry, I thought you were a guest.

As it happens, I'm the host.

- Snort?

- No, thank you.

I don't blame you. It's awful.

What are you looking at?

- You tell me.

- I ain't always this bad.

It's just that last night me and my pal,

Doc Velie, did a little celebrating.

What were you celebrating?

Well, you name it.

What do you want?

My name is Macreedy.

I came in on the streamliner.

You what?

- I say, I came in on the...

- You ain't from around here.

Are you up Phoenix way?

Tucson? Mesa?

You ain't selling cattle nor seed corn,

nothing like that?

No, all I want from you

is a little information.

I have to go to a place called Adobe Flat.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes