Ida Tarbell Page #14

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IDA:

Goodnight, Mrs. Hammond.

INT. IDA’S APARTMENT - FOLLOWING

Ida closes the door, double locking it. She stands there a

moment, as a vague unease settles over her.

Whatever the feeling, she quickly shakes off.

ANGLE - LATER

We see where Ida has set up an office in her spare bedroom.

Crammed floor to ceiling with her books and typewriter. She

is typing up her notes, a cat curled at her feet.

When suddenly, there is a tremendous CRASH!!

Followed by glass spraying across the floor.

The cat darts for cover, and Ida dives onto the floor.

We hear a RUMBLE OF BOOTS in the alleyway outside.

71.

Looking up, she sees a large rock, with a note tied to it.

ON THE NOTE:
“STOP NOW B*TCH. OR ELSE.”

EXT. GATES OF KYKUIT - DAY

A group of JOURNALISTS are camped outside the gates of

Kykuit. A MOTORCAR approaches, heading into the estate. The

men all clamor towards it, hoping for a sighting or a quote.

VOICES (AD-LIB)

Mr. Rockefeller, how do you respond to the

allegations in McClure’s Magazine...any

comment about the secret kickbacks from the

railroads...Mr. Rockefeller...?

As the car sweeps past, we see it’s not Rockefeller in the

back, but his son JOHN JUNIOR and his wife ABBY.

EXT. KYKUIT - FRONT DOOR - DAY

The car pulls up and the young couple climb out.

They are greeted by JOE DEVEREUX (50’s), the father’s

personal secretary. He is a pinched-looking Irishman, loyal

servant to the old man.

DEVEREUX:

Welcome home, Mr. Rockefeller. How was the

honeymoon, sir?

JUNIOR:

Fine, thanks Joe. Is my father here?

DEVEREUX:

Yes, but he’s in conference with Mr.

Rogers. He doesn’t wish to be disturbed.

JUNIOR:

And my mother?

DEVEREUX:

Upstairs. In the library.

JUNIOR:

(re:
suitcases)

Take these up to the carriage house, will

you Joe?

(to Abby)

I’ll be up in a few minutes.

Junior strides inside the house.

72.

INT. KYKUIT - LIBRARY - DAY

Junior paces around the room like a caged animal. Deeply

upset. His mother stands before him, trying to placate him.

JUNIOR:

Just let me talk to him.

CETTIE:

You’re upset. I understand that. But

please, try to calm yourself.

JUNIOR:

Why won’t he answer these...these lies!

That’s what they are. And by saying

nothing, it just makes him look worse.

CETTIE:

He will answer. But in his own way, and his

own time. Your father will not be told how

to conduct his business.

A knock at the door, Devereux entering...

DEVEREUX:

Mr. Rockefeller, sir, your wife is asking-

JUNIOR:

(abrupt)

Not now, Joe!

CETTIE:

Just give us a moment. Thanks Joseph.

Catching a whiff, Devereux beats a hasty exit.

JUNIOR:

It’s an assassination, that’s what it is.

My God, they’re trying to ruin him. And us!

CETTIE:

Nobody is going to ruin us. If we stand

together.

JUNIOR:

(a dark laugh)

Boy, she really nailed him, didn’t she? The

money mad old fool and his fading empire.

Duping widows out of their fortunes,

bulldozing the railroads into the ground.

CETTIE:

Stop it.

JUNIOR:

But I’m the one who has to show his face on

Wall Street Monday morning.

73.

JUNIOR (CONT'D)

It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t share his

name. Christ, whose idea of a sick joke was

that?

Suddenly, she slaps him across the face. Hard.

It shocks them both.

CETTIE:

Stop it. Stop this nonsense! You will not

speak that way about my husband.

(fierce)

Your father is the king of kings. And you,

are the son of the king of kings. And you

must never do or say anything that would

tarnish that crown, do you understand me?

Silence. He just nods.

CETTIE:

Now go and look after your wife, and I will

look after my husband.

JUNIOR:

(contrite)

I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn.

CETTIE:

Yes you did. You most certainly did.

He leaves the room. HOLD on Cettie, fighting back tears.

INT. OFFICE OF MCCLURE’S MAGAZINE - DAY

Ida follows Sam McClure through the main office floor.

REVEAL:
Sam has a BLACKENED EYE.

IDA:

It’s a free press and a free country!

SAM MCCLURE:

Like hell it is. That shitheel could have

us both killed in the morning and the world

would simply shrug. That was just a warning

shot.

IDA:

So what, you’re going to just give up now?

What kind of a man does that make you?

SAM MCCLURE:

A very sensible one!

Sam enters his office; Ida follows him in. Some other faces

in the office lean back in their chairs, watching.

74.

INT. MCCLURE’S OFFICE - FOLLOWING

IDA:

Mr. McClure, we have a responsibility-

SAM MCCLURE:

(angrily)

And I have a responsibility! To my

investors. To my wife. To the fourteen

people out there who depend on me for their

livelihood. I’m talking about jobs here,

food on the table. This is not a game!

A beat, then:

IDA:

Why do you think those men attacked you?

Why do you think I have not been sued for

libel, or kidnapped or even worse?

SAM MCCLURE:

Don’t hold your breath...

IDA:

We’ve got him. And he knows it.

SAM MCCLURE:

Oh, really? What have we got? So he’s a

rich guy and he likes to win. That still

doesn’t make him a criminal.

IDA:

What about the price fixing, the secret

kickbacks from the railroads, the sabotage.

That’s not illegal?

SAM MCCLURE:

Show me the documents that prove it.

She doesn’t have them, and she knows it.

SAM MCCLURE:

Look, I don’t like him any more than you

do. But let’s be reasonable here. If we

keep on publishing like this, it starts to

look like personal vendetta. Next thing you

know, you’ve got people feeling sorry for

him, while we’re out of business! You’ve

made your point, now let’s move on.

IDA:

Move on? He is a liar, a cheat and a

hypocrite! Going to church on Sunday just

so he can destroy his enemies with impunity

on Monday.

75.

SAM MCCLURE:

Why are you making this personal? It’s not.

IDA:

It’s always personal...to somebody!

McClure goes to a drinks cabinet, pours himself a stiff one.

Ida is silent for a moment, ruminating. And then:

IDA:

“Sic Semper Tyrannis.”

SAM MCCLURE:

What?

IDA:

Sic Semper Tyrannis. Death to all tyrants.

That’s what John Wilkes Booth said when he

shot Lincoln. But that never sat well with

me, because Lincoln was never a tyrant. He

was a liberator.

SAM MCCLURE:

Oh, so now you’re Abe Lincoln?!

IDA:

(deeply)

No, I’m not that smart or that able. But

thanks to you, I now have a voice. And I

think I speak for a lot of people who are

sick and tired of being pushed around by a

gang of nameless faceless corporate

bullies. Not only does Rockefeller want to

win, but he wants everyone else to lose.

That’s what I call tyranny.

McClure looks at her.

SAM MCCLURE:

You’re not going to stop this, are you?

IDA:

Not when we’re this close. We’ve got him on

the run, now let’s finish him.

SAM MCCLURE:

How?

IDA:

(thinks)

Rockefeller controls the oil industry

because he bullies the railroads into

giving him cheaper shipping rates. Rates

that allow him to crush the competition.

Now let’s assume for a second that

somewhere there’s a record of those

shipping rates.

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