Black Legion

Synopsis: Frank Taylor joins the "pro-American" Black Legion when he loses his chance at foremanship to a foreign-born man. The organization is a sort of Ku Klux Klan in the industrial sphere. Frank has troubles with his wife over this and causes serious trouble when he tells all to his best friend Ed Jackson.
Production: WARNER BROTHERS PICTURES
  Nominated for 1 Oscar. Another 2 wins.
 
IMDB:
7.0
APPROVED
Year:
1937
83 min
254 Views


How you doing, Ed?

Ooh. Terrible.

I feel like that drill was driving

right through the top of my head.

It might be a good idea at that.

Let out that beer

you slopped up last night.

- Quit riding me, will you?

- I ain't even started on you yet.

- Come on. Let's eat.

- No, Frank, I couldn't.

Come on, do you good.

You gotta eat.

- I got just the thing to straighten you out.

- What is it?

Some nice ice-cold oatmeal

smothered with lard.

Go get some more.

Yeah?

Let's get some more. Come on.

Tomato juice, eh? Hmm.

Well, next best thing in the world

for a hangover.

Yeah? Well, what's the best?

Heh. Laying off of the booze entirely.

What time did he roll in last night?

Oh, I wouldn't know that.

- I never check up on me boarders.

- Your daughter's checking on him.

Well, I wouldn't be surprised

if she was trying to.

She'd better before that Pearl Danvers

makes a tramp out of him.

Lay off, will you?

I'm through with that dame.

I was out with her to tell her goodbye.

- Yeah? What did she say when you told her?

- She said, "Goodbye. Call me up soon. "

Shame on you guys,

wasting your time in idle chatter.

Look at Joe over there.

Hey, Dombrowski.

What do you got there,

a honyock back scratcher?

A slide rule

to figure out these stress formulas.

What's that got to do

with running a lathe?

Nothing. It's to do with designing one.

Aw. Running a lathe

ain't good enough for you, huh?

Now you gotta learn how to design one.

It ain't your time he's wasting, is it?

His going to school don't hurt you.

No, he's always got his nose in a book.

Well, it's his nose, ain't it?

And a plenty big one at that.

- Hey, Cliff, why don't you stop?

Hello, fellas.

How are you?

Hello, Tommy.

I got news for you.

- This came from the division super. Ahem.

Yeah?

"To Mr. Thomas W. Smith.

Subject:
Promotion.

Effective July 12th, you'll report

to Division Superintendent James...

...to assume your new duties

as assistant general shop foreman. "

- Well, congratulations, boy.

- Thanks. Well...

You seem glad to get rid

of your old foreman.

No, we ain't.

Glad to see you get it.

Hey, Tommy, who's gonna

crack the whip in your place?

As far as I know, the job's still open.

They'll fill it the way they always have.

Move the best man up.

Well...

...who would you say the best man is,

Tommy?

Heh-heh. Kid, if they ask me,

I'll have to tell them you're all pretty good.

Ha-ha. You know darn well

I'm better than pretty good.

Sure. You're the guy that wrote those books

Dombrowski's always studying.

There's one for you, wise guy.

Hey, there she blows. Let's go back.

Till Monday, I'm still the best man.

Yes, sir, Mr. Smith.

Hey, you big ape, you. Get in there.

Tommy was kidding.

You've been here longer than the rest.

You can run this shop

as well as you run that drill press.

- I'll fight the guy that says you can't.

- I hope they think that way up front.

Forget it. You're a cinch.

- You sure you're rooting for the right guy?

- Sure.

Think it over.

I'm warning you...

...there ain't gonna be no hangovers

in no shop I'm boss of, get it?

- Okay, Mr. Taylor.

- Oh.

Starting to red apple

the boss already, huh?

Well, come on, we'll give them a week's

work between now and quitting time.

Sure that will do you?

Oh, yes, thanks.

I'll return it first thing in the morning.

Even if you don't, it's all right.

I still owe you four eggs...

...and that half bottle of bluing

I got from you.

- Oh, gee, Betty, that looks swell.

- I hope it tastes all right.

The men are getting hard to please.

Not your pa.

He eats anything. I trained him like that.

You know, you gotta train a man

just like you would a dog.

So it's Ed Jackson who's hard to please.

Are you going to start that again?

Yes, I am. And I'm going to keep it up

until you and Ed do something about it.

- What are you waiting for?

- That's what I keep telling her.

I guess it's polite to wait

until you're asked.

Don't be silly.

No man ever proposes unless he's pushed

into it, isn't that right?

It most certainly is.

And with that blond hussy

chasing after Ed...

...he's going to need a lot of help

to shove him into proposing.

- That's what I keep telling her.

- Please.

All right,

but I know what I'm talking about.

You've got to make up Ed's mind for him

just like I made up your father's.

Men being the simple-minded creatures

they are.

There are the boys. I've gotta run.

Much obliged for the butter.

I'll return you the eggs and bluing,

Mrs. Taylor.

Oh, hello, Ruth.

- Hello, I'm robbing you again. Hi, Ed.

Hi, Ruth.

Hello, sweet. How's everything?

Couldn't be better.

I got to talking and almost forgot supper.

I'm glad you said "almost"

because I'm hungry.

- And I'm a man that really gets hungry.

- Oh, no.

What you got there, margarine?

No, butter. I borrowed it.

Butter, huh? Hey, what is this,

Christmas or something?

Hello, Pop.

- Hey, get a load of this.

- Buddy, look at yourself.

- What's the matter?

- He's all right.

We'll run him through the wringer.

He'll wash.

- How was the ball game?

- We beat the daylights out of them.

- You did, eh? What was the score?

- Sixty-three to 40.

But we only played five innings.

Fat hit a homer and we lost the ball.

And you've torn your pants again.

Well, I was sliding into third

and Muggy spiked me.

Yeah, what did you do to him?

I smacked him.

You know, when I was his age,

I could lick any kid in the neighborhood.

- Ouch.

- What's the matter?

- That's where he smacked me back.

That's all there is.

The fellows think I'm gonna get the job.

And I... Well, I'm the best man

in the shop, ain't I?

Gee, Pop, you'll be foreman...

...and that's about the highest job

there is, ain't it?

Heh-heh-heh. Well, I wouldn't say that

but it's pretty high.

Well, wait till I tell Muggy about this.

He thinks he's hot

because his uncle used to be a foreman.

Yeah, we'll get Muggy, won't we?

- Come on, boys, dinner's ready.

Okay.

And if I'd have known about this,

I'd have fixed us a real spread.

Oh, don't you worry, kid.

We got from now on to celebrate.

- I'm not hungry, Mrs. Grogan.

- You've got to eat.

All you had for lunch

was a can of tomatoes.

Go on and eat.

- Oh, don't worry. I'll be over this tomorrow.

- You will if you stay home tonight.

- Yeah.

- Never mind, I'll get it.

Hello?

Oh. Just a moment, please.

Ed, it's for you.

Mrs. Danvers.

- Thanks, Betty.

- You're welcome, I'm sure.

Hello?

Hello, Eddie.

Oh, I'm fine. I just wanted to find out

how you were.

Huh?

Oh, gee, that's too bad.

Say, it must have been the gin chasers.

It couldn't have been the beer.

Oh, I just called up to tell you

I'm not mad about what you said last night.

No.

Well, you know, about our not having

any more dates.

No, I've forgiven you already.

Uh-huh.

I couldn't stay mad

at a swell guy like you.

Well, that's fine.

No. No, I couldn't.

Saturday, I gotta work.

Sunday, I'm going to a picnic.

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Abem Finkel

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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