Ida Tarbell Page #15

---

76.

IDA (CONT'D)

Then all we need to do is find them.

There’s your direct link to criminal

activity. And nobody is above the law,

including John D. Rockefeller.

A beat, then:

SAM MCCLURE:

Two more months. Then I’m done with

Rockefeller, and so are you. In the

meantime, we are beefing up security around

here. No more random “visitors.”

Ida nods. Then she hands McClure her latest article.

IDA:

I have a train to catch. Print this, if you

want to punch back.

Ida heads out.

SAM MCCLURE:

Where the hell are you going?

IDA:

Cleveland, to look for proof. And I’m

taking Siddal with me.

She’s out the door. He knocks back his Scotch, before

anxiously looking at Ida’s next article.

SAM MCCLURE:

(quietly, to himself)

Sic Semper Tyrannis.

INT. MOVING TRAIN - DAY

Ida and Siddal ride on a train to Cleveland. Ida is staring

absently out the window, Siddal sitting opposite reading the

newspaper. After a moment, another PASSENGER approaches.

PASSENGER:

I’m sorry to disturb...but are you Ida

Tarbell?

IDA:

Yes. I am.

PASSENGER:

Would you mind? It’s for my wife, she’s a

big fan of yours. We both are.

He hands her a copy of McClure’s to sign. Ida is surprised to

be recognized in public like this. Uncomfortable with the

attention. Nevertheless, she signs, hands back the magazine.

77.

Siddal watches all of this with wry amusement.

IDA:

What?

SIDDAL:

Nothing.

(then, teasing)

“Miss Tarbell, I am such a big fan of yours.

Would you mind signing my newspaper?”

IDA:

Why, certainly sir.

Ida takes his newspaper and playfully whacks him over the

head with it. A beat, then:

IDA:

John, I want to thank you.

SIDDAL:

What for?

IDA:

For being a good friend to me. I couldn’t

do any of this without you. You know that,

don’t you?

SIDDAL:

(smiles)

I know.

Together, they ride in silence.

INT. 320 LEXINGTON - LOBBY OF MCCLURES - DAY

A MAN in a shabby raincoat (we will later come to know him as

BEN LUDLOW) enters the building. He looks haggard, unkempt.

And in this moment, he is also quite obviously intoxicated.

SECURITY GUARD:

Can I help you?

BEN LUDLOW:

Does Ida Tarbell work here?

SECURITY GUARD:

Who?

BEN LUDLOW:

Ida Tarbell, she writes for McClure’s

magazine.

SECURITY GUARD:

(suspicious)

I’m sorry, you must have the wrong address.

78.

BEN LUDLOW:

I just want to talk to her.

SECURITY GUARD:

Well, she ain’t here. Now go on...

(nods to the door)

Get outta here! Before I call the cops.

Ludlow lurches off. The security guard shakes his head.

INT. KYKUIT - PRIVATE DEN - NIGHT

CLOSE ON:
THE COVER OF MCCLURE’S MAGAZINE. And the headline:

“THE BUFFALO CASE” by Ida M. Tarbell

September 1904.

PULL BACK TO REVEAL...Rockefeller alone in his den, reading.

His expression is blank, no emotion readable on his face.

When he is finished reading, he rises from his chair and

tosses the magazine into the fire. He watches as it burns,

the flame casting an eerie yellow glow over his face.

INT. KYKUIT - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

Rockefeller stands at the head of a long mahogany table.

Seated around the table is a collection of his minions,

including Rogers, Junior, and a new man MR. GATES (50’s).

The room is cloaked in semi-darkness, reflecting the Oil

Baron’s blackened mood and somber tone.

ROCKEFELLER:

I will not allow the tedious ramblings of

an hysterical petticoat to change the way

that we do business at Standard Oil.

JUNIOR:

The stockholders in New York are getting

very nervous. If we don’t put out a

statement right now-

ROCKEFELLER:

(sharply)

There won’t be any statement. We do not

comment on the salacious gossip of a third-

rate no-name magazine. By engaging with

them, we only legitimize them.

JUNIOR:

You’re wrong.

A beat. All heads turn to the younger Rockefeller.

79.

JUNIOR:

I’m sorry, but this is different. We need

to fight back. We need to do something.

ROCKEFELLER:

I said...I will handle this.

MR. GATES

(nervously)

Mr. Rockefeller, if I may. A carefully

worded press release, or perhaps an op-ed

piece in The Times might allay people’s

fears. If we can’t stop the discussion, we

can at least try to “manage” its direction.

Rockefeller gazes imperiously at this puny little man.

ROCKEFELLER:

Who are you, sir?

MR. GATES

Frederick Gates. Of the Gates-Harriman

Public Relations firm in New York.

JUNIOR:

I invited him here, for his expertise.

ROCKEFELLER:

(a sneer)

Since when did one need to have “relations”

with the public? I’ve been in business for

over 40 years without the need for public

relations. Forty years! And now these sewer

dwellers...these vultures...these

PARASITES...want to pick over every detail

of my business. How dare they!

Absolute silence. Nobody looks at Rockefeller.

ROCKEFELLER:

Everyone please leave.

One by one, the men get up and file solemnly out of the room.

ROCKEFELLER:

Not you, John.

Now it’s just father and son. Alone together. Finally:

ROCKEFELLER:

Don’t ever contradict me in public again.

JUNIOR:

(anguished)

Why won’t you say something? That woman is

turning you into a monster, and you just

sit there and do nothing!

80.

ROCKEFELLER:

I don’t see how this concerns you.

JUNIOR:

(incredulous)

Does not concern me?! Yesterday, I had a

man come up to me in the street because he

overhead my name being called by a driver.

And do you know what he did? He spat in my

face, with hatred. That’s what people think

of your name. And mine.

Rockefeller gazes at his son, baffled by the raw emotion.

ROCKEFELLER:

You have a secure job, an executive title,

you have money, and still you’re not happy.

JUNIOR:

(tortured)

Because it’s your money, it’s your name! I

never asked for any of it, and I didn’t

earn it. Do you know what I do all day long

on Wall Street? I devise clever ways in

which to hide money from the government.

Your money. And you know what, there’s so

goddamn much of it, that I can’t keep up.

ROCKEFELLER:

Don’t use that language with me, boy. You

know I can’t stand that language.

JUNIOR:

How much is enough? What good is all the

money in the world, if people hate us just

for having it?

ROCKEFELLER:

And what would you have me do instead? Just

give it all away?

JUNIOR:

Yes! Exactly! Give it away. We don’t need

it. Why not let somebody else have the use

of it for a change?

ROCKEFELLER:

You’re my son, and when I’m gone, it will

all be yours. And when you’re gone, it will

be the turn of your children, and their

children’s children.

Rockefeller goes to embrace Junior, but Junior shrugs him

off, and walks past him towards the door. Stops, turns.

81.

JUNIOR:

But that’s just it. I don’t want it! I’m

not you. And I don’t want to be like you.

Junior storms out. Rockefeller watches as he goes, a touch of

sadness behind the cold eyes. For the very first time, he

appears hurt. Personally affected.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes