Ida Tarbell Page #9

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(Ida smiles, relieved)

Let’s just hope you’re right, Miss Tarbell.

Because if you’re not, it’s my nuts in his

vise.

SMASH CUT TO:

A SERIES OF SHOTS:

The printing presses roll, spitting out copies of McClure’s

Magazine.

SUPERIMPOSE:
November 1902.

On the cover, the title of Ida’s story: “UNHOLY ALLIANCE”.

And the sub head: WHO IS THE SOUTH IMPROVEMENT COMPANY?

All around the country we see people - on buses, trains, in

offices - reading Ida’s article. And it’s a bombshell.

Henry Lloyd, reads with particular interest.

Franklin Tarbell, in his sick bed, reads with interest.

Teddy Roosevelt, in the Oval Office, reading with admiration.

Henry Rogers, reading at 26 Broadway. A dark scowl on his

face.

INT. OFFICE OF MCCLURE’S MAGAZINE - DAY

We follow SACKS OF MAIL as they are wheeled into the office.

VOICES OF READERS writing in from around the country.

READER # 1 (V.O.)

“Dear Miss Tarbell, while I am not normally

one to write letters to magazines, I feel

you are to be congratulated on your

excellent story in McClure’s Magazine...”

45.

READER #2 (V.O.)

“Mr. Rockefeller and the whole damn lot of

‘em ought to be hog-tied and branded,

before tossing them over sh*t creek without

an oar...”

Ida at her desk, reading some of her fan mail. Pleased by the

response. Her article has perfectly captured the zeitgeist.

READER # 3 (V.O.)

“...I have not the least doubt as to the

truthfulness of your article. I thank you

for opening my eyes, and showing us the

milk inside the coconut...”

READER #4/ FRANKLIN (V.O.)

“...My Dear Ida, on behalf of all

Pennsylvanians, I want to thank you for

giving us a voice which all too often has

been shouted down or drowned out by these

greedy oil men in our region.

A smile appears on Ida’s face as she recognizes the voice...

FRANKLIN TARBELL (V.O.)

“I feel positively invigorated when I

imagine the look of surprise on Mr.

Rockefeller’s face as he reads your fine

article. Glad to see you didn’t listen to

my advice. Now give ‘em hell, Ida Belle,

give ‘em hell...

BOOM! A SHOTGUN BLAST TAKES US TO...

EXT. KYKUIT - SHOOTING RANGE - DAY

ROCKEFELLER - shooting clay pigeons on the lawn. Seeing HENRY

ROGERS arrive, he hands off his gun, goes over to meet him.

They repair to a quiet spot where they can discuss business

in private. Rogers pulls some legal documents from his

briefcase for Rockefeller to sign.

ROGERS:

Sign here and here.

Rockefeller lends his signature to a couple of documents.

ROCKEFELLER:

Anything else?

Rogers then pulls out a copy of McClure’s Magazine, handing

it to Rockefeller.

ROGERS:

You might want to have a look at this.

46.

ROCKEFELLER:

What is it?

ROGERS:

A female journalist named Ida Tarbell. She

writes about Standard Oil in this month’s

McClures Magazine. She came to see me a

couple of months ago, asking for my help.

ROCKEFELLER:

And did you?

ROGERS:

(caught)

Ah, no. I mean, yes, I did meet with her

very briefly, but only out of courtesy.

ROCKEFELLER:

What is she writing about?

ROGERS:

It’s the South Improvement Scheme. Since

the Sherman Act, there’s a whole bunch of

them come crawling out of the woodwork.

ROCKEFELLER:

I don’t see how that concerns us.

ROGERS:

Yes sir, I know but...it seems to me the

climate in Washington has changed somewhat

since President McKinley was shot. Teddy

Roosevelt has been sounding off in public

about the trusts. I fear he’s gotten some

people riled up, and we don’t yet know what

his politics are.

ROCKEFELLER:

Presidents come and go, Mr. Rogers. We do

not.

ROGERS:

How would you like me to handle this?

Rockefeller’s attention is suddenly drawn to a huge earthworm

squirming at his feet. He reaches down and picks it up.

ROCKEFELLER:

You see this worm, Mr. Rogers? If I pick

this up and show it to you, what do you

think about that?

ROGERS:

(confused)

Nothing. It’s just a worm.

47.

ROCKEFELLER:

Exactly. If I crush it, I only draw

attention to it. But if I ignore it...

(tosses the worm aside)

...it will burrow a hole and disappear. The

world is full of worms, Mr. Rogers.

ROGERS:

Worms?

ROCKEFELLER:

Anarchists, socialists, malcontents. They

hate us because we have been successful,

and they have not. And you know what I say,

Mr. Rogers? “Let the great world wag.”

ROGERS:

(forcing a smile)

Yes, sir.

ROCKEFELLER:

Very well then. What’s next on the agenda?

Rockefeller hands him back the magazine without so much as

even a glance.

INT. 26 BROADWAY - ELEVATOR - DAY

Ida is whooshed upwards in the elevator. She smooths her hair

and skirt before exiting on the 12th floor. She’s visibly

nervous, as well she might be.

ROGERS (V.O.)

You are to be congratulated, Miss Tarbell,

on a marvelous work of fiction.

INT. 26 BROADWAY - ROGERS’ OFFICE - DAY

Rogers stares out the window, his back turned to Ida.

He turns slowly to face her. No pretense of friendliness or

bonhomie today. Just a very grudging kind of respect.

IDA:

Then show me where I was wrong?

ROGERS:

(angrily)

I don’t have to show you anything. The fact

is, you misrepresented yourself to me.

IDA:

Did I, or did you?

48.

ROGERS:

Don’t play games with me. You deliberately

misled me about your intention. Now either

you’re very smart or you’re incredibly

stupid, I cannot decide which.

A beat. He fixes her with a cold hard stare.

ROGERS:

Miss Tarbell, before you go off on some

kind of crusade here, let me remind you who

it is you’re dealing with. Standard Oil is

a legitimate multinational company, the

largest in the world. It employs more

people than the whole United States Army.

Do you really mean to go into battle with

men who have spent the better part of their

lives engaged in making war?

IDA:

I mean to tell the truth.

ROGERS:

(temper)

But you’re not being practical!!

He pounds the desk with his fist. Papers go flying. Rogers

quickly composes himself. Smooths back his hair.

ROGERS:

You and Mr. McClure are playing a very

dangerous game here. And I refuse - I

simply refuse - to take any further part in

it. Do I make myself clear?

IDA:

Perfectly. Now let me be clear, Mr. Rogers.

I’m not asking for your permission here. I

am going to write my articles with or

without your help. But...I think it will go

a lot better for you personally, should you

wish to cooperate with me. How would Mr.

Rockefeller feel, knowing that you invited

me a second time to your office? Or that

you granted me full access to his “private”

company library?

Rogers is rendered speechless.

IDA:

Here’s how it will go: you will share with

me all the information that I request, when

I request it. In return, you will get to

read my drafts before they are published:

confirm, deny, clarify any point you feel

is necessary. Beyond that, you will have no

editorial control.

49.

Rogers looks like he has just swallowed a cup of boric acid.

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