Ida Tarbell

---

FADE IN ON:

AN OIL WELL - AFTERNOON

A tall wooden OIL DERRICK reaches up into the sky. Stones

bounce off the surface of it. WE PAN DOWN TO REVEAL the

source. Three young boys using it for target practice. Two

brothers MIKE and PAUL WALLACE, 11 and 9, and another more

delicate-looking boy about the same age: WILL TARBELL (10).

Finally, they pick up their school bags and move on.

Title:
Pennsylvania. 1868

EXT. FOOT BRIDGE - AFTERNOON

We follow the three boys as they walk home from school. They

cross a rickety wooden bridge that spans a small stream.

All three are sucking on red “jawbreakers” as they go.

MIKE:

Our pop says oil is the future, and

everyone in Titusville is gonna be rich cos

now we have it.

PAUL:

I hope we’re gonna be rich. Cos when I’m

rich, I know exactly what I’m gonna buy.

MIKE:

What are you gonna buy?

PAUL:

(big red grin)

Sixteen gazillion Cherry Bombs.

Will and Paul share a look. Laugh.

MIKE:

My brother. Genius.

As the boys reach the far side of the bridge, they are

intercepted by another group of boys. Their leader is CHUCKIE

PEARL, a husky and freckled 12-year old menace to society.

WILL:

(face darkening)

Oh no, Chuckie Pearl. Keep walking.

CHUCKIE PEARL:

(calling out)

Hey girls! Where ya’ll headed?

WILL:

Nowhere.

2.

CHUCKIE PEARL:

Whatcha eating there, Tar Barrel?

WILL:

Nothing.

Chuckie rifles his pockets. Finds the red jawbreakers.

CHUCKIE PEARL:

Hoo-whee! Cherry Bombs! Looks like you boys

been holding out on us again.

WILL:

Hey, come on. Give those back. My dad gave

those to me.

CHUCKIE PEARL:

And now you’ve given them to me. New bridge

toll.

MIKE:

Give ‘em back, Chuckie. Those aren’t yours!

CHUCKIE PEARL:

And who’s gonna make me, you?

The three boys just stand there frozen, until-

YOUNG IDA (O.S.)

Me.

REVEAL:
12 year-old IDA TARBELL. A tall, gawky, string bean

of a girl, carrying a big bag of books.

Chuckie and his minions bust out laughing.

CHUCKIE PEARL:

Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Miss

Titty Barrel! Boy, for a second there I

thought we were in trouble.

Will Shakes his head at his sister, “Please don’t.”

YOUNG IDA:

They don’t belong to you. Now give ‘em

back.

CHUCKIE PEARL:

Or what?

YOUNG IDA:

Or I’ll make you do it.

Something about the tone, or the fierce set of her jaw, but

we know that she means business. And Chuckie knows it too.

3.

CHUCKIE PEARL:

Why don’t you run along home to your momma.

I’m sure she’s missing ya.

YOUNG IDA:

I said:
Give. Them. Back.

CHUCKIE PEARL:

Make me.

YOUNG IDA:

(a sigh)

Have it your way.

Ida steps forward, and in one swift motion, she slaps his

face, twists his ears and kicks him in the shins. Chuckie

becomes enraged. He lunges at her. But Ida just holds her

ground, and then pops him right on the nose.

Chuckie goes down like the coward he is. The others laugh.

CHUCKIE PEARL:

(bawling)

Owww! My nose! She done busted my nose! I’m

getting my dad. Help!!!

Chuckie stumbles off with his bloodied nose. His cronies soon

tuck tail and lope away also.

YOUNG IDA:

That’s right. Run along home to your momma.

“I’m sure she’s missing ya.”

A beat. Will stares at his sister in disbelief.

WILL:

You just punched Chuckie Pearl in the nose!

YOUNG IDA:

And do you know why I did that?

(Will shakes his head)

Cos he’s a bully, Will. And once a bully

knows you’re not afraid of him, he can’t

bully you anymore.

WILL:

Weren’t you afraid of him?

YOUNG IDA:

Course I was. But he didn’t know that, did

he? Come on, I’ll race ya home.

CUT TO:

BLACK SCREEN. Over this, our title:

Ida Tarbell

4.

INT. MOVING TRAIN - DAY -1901

IDA TARBELL, career woman, 43, rides on a train to New York.

She watches a SMALL BOY sitting directly opposite her, his

cheeks stuffed to capacity with RED CHERRY BOMBS.

Ida smiles at him. Remembering. Maybe he smiles back at her.

Then, a train conductor marches down the aisle, shouting...

CONDUCTOR:

New York! Next and last stop, New York!

EXT. NEW YORK CITY - SOME TIME LATER

Ida walks down a crowded Lexington Avenue wearing her Sunday

best clothes. Her wholesome, buttoned up appearance belies a

range of passions and a fiercely determined will.

She finds the address she is looking for, enters.

INT. OFFICES OF MCCLURE’S MAGAZINE - DAY

Ida walks through a busy office, the place blue with

cigarette smoke. Clacking typewriters, whooshing pneumatic

tubes, and all the usual paraphernalia of publishing.

Title:
McClure’s Magazine, 1901

She approaches a young staffer (LOWRY, 32), busy typing.

IDA:

Hello, I’m looking for Mr. McClure. Is he

available?

LOWRY:

I doubt it. Mr. McClure is a very busy man.

IDA:

No, I have an appointment to see him. I’m

here about a job.

LOWRY:

Too late, I’m afraid. All the secretarial

positions have been filled. But if you want

to fill out an application-

He hands Ida a job application form. Continues typing.

IDA:

(irritated)

I’m not a secretary, I’m a writer. Mr.

McClure requested to meet with me.

5.

Just then, another man appears, hands some copy to Lowry.

This is PHILLIPS (50, grumpy). Ida turns to him instead.

IDA:

Are you Mr. McClure?

PHILLIPS:

No. Phillips.

IDA:

Where can I find him, please?

PHILLIPS:

(points)

End of the hallway, on the right.

Ida turns to go, but not before having a little dig at Lowry.

IDA:

You might want to check your spelling.

“Parallel” is two l’s, one r. Even a

secretary knows that.

She walks off. Lowry stares at his text, frowns. She’s right.

HALLWAY -- FOLLOWING

A stencilled sign on a glass door reads: S.S. McClure.

Publisher. Ida approaches, gives a timid knock.

SAM MCCLURE (O.S.)

Not now, Phillips!

Ida knocks again, a little louder this time. Finally, a head

pokes out.

SAM MCCLURE:

Oh, for Christ’s sake, what is it now?

SAM MCCLURE is a compact ball of energy in his early 40’s. Of

Scots-Irish descent, with the red hair and fiery temperament

to match. He is impeccably well-dressed for a publisher. He

looks like what he is: a cyclone in a frock coat.

IDA:

Mr. McClure? I’m Ida Tarbell. We had an

appointment?

SAM MCCLURE:

(totally forgot)

Ah, Miss Tarbell! Of course! Welcome.

Please, come in.

She enters McClure’s office.

6.

INT. MCCLURE’S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

The place is a chaos of books, magazines, unread manuscripts.

He deftly sweeps a bottle of Scotch under a coat.

SAM MCCLURE:

You must pardon our appearance, I’m afraid

we’re still moving in. Thank you for

coming, please have a seat. I trust you had

a pleasant journey from...

IDA:

Titusville. Pennsylvania.

SAM MCCLURE:

Pennsylvania? Good Baptist folk down there,

are they?

IDA:

Some of them. We’re Methodist.

(drily)

Less singing. More penance.

SAM MCCLURE:

(finding a file)

I read your CV, it’s very impressive. First

woman to graduate from Allegheny College.

Editor of the Chautauquan. Masters in

French literature from the Sorbonne.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes