Kit Kittredge: An American Girl

It was May 2nd, 1934.

Even though the Great Depression|was in full swing around the world...

... it still seemed far away|from the world I knew.

I was focused on one thing.

I wanted to be a reporter.

I was more excited that day|than I'd ever been in my whole life.

Next up, Clifton and Ludlow.|Everybody up for Clifton and Ludlow.

If I hurried, I'd have just enough time|to see Dad at his car dealership.

Dad. Dad. Dad, look, I finished my article.

That's great, honey. Oh!

- Wish me luck.|- You can do it, sweetheart.

Go get them.

She's gonna be a reporter, that one.

You just wait and see.

Hobo crime spree|spreading across Ohio Valley.

Come get your paper. Hobo crime spree.

Hobo crime spree spreading...

My brother Charlie|had arranged an introduction...

... at the Cincinnati Register.

Though I was going inside as a visitor...

... I was certain I'd come out a journalist.

How could I have known|what life had in store?

I thought I was ready.

Seven, please?

Excuse me, Mr. Peabody? Sir?

- Charlie Kittredge's sister.|- Yes, sir, I'm Kit.

Uh, Billy, and I'm only 19. I'm not|a sir yet. But thanks. Uh, follow me.

Charlie said you wanted|to see a real newsroom, and this is it.

Wow, the Cincinnati Register.

- Okay. So where's the editor?|- Uh, Gibson? Right there, why?

I've written this article,|and I'd like for you to give it to him.

- Uh, you'd like me to what?|- Give it to him, you know, to publish.

You're kidding.

You're not kidding. She's not kidding.

I'm not kidding.|It's about the Chicago World's Fair.

I've interviewed several people|who've actually been there.

Eyewitnesses.

Heh. That's what this is about?|You want an article published?

Yes, thank you.

Kid, you don't waltz up to the editor|of the Cincinnati Register...

...and expect him to publish your article.

The tragedy is the fact that|I paid you at all to write this drivel!

I want something new.|I want something fresh.

I want something real before l...

But how about I take a look at it?

Thanks, Billy, would you?

I'll just wait here.

- Ha, ha.|- But you take your time.

Uh, no.

You can come back another time.

That works too.

He's just reading it, Ruthie.

He might not even give it to Mr. Gibson.|Who knows?

- You're late. Let's go.|- Does Mother know you're coming with me?

Mother,|I'm going to Kit's house with Frances!

- Yes, dear.|- Now she does.

Good day.

Come on, let's go.

I'm being sworn|Into the Treehouse Club

- I'm being sworn into the Treehouse Club.|- Afternoon.

Hello.

You all know if the people who live here|might be interested in a barter?

Depends.|What's a barter?

A trade.

See, my partner here and I'll work for food|and...

- Anyways, I'm Will, and this is Countee.|- Hey.

Mother's out back with her Garden Club.|Follow me.

I'm being sworn|Into the Treehouse Club.

Everything will be okay.|Everything will be fine.

I just heard you're moving, Louise.

My husband left weeks ago...

...and we're staying at the Netherland|until he sends for us.

The Netherland Plaza Hotel?

I heard it's magnificent.

We'd love to see the rooms.

Margaret, look.

Mother.

WO|Hobos. We cannot trust them.

Hello.

How can I help you?

- Mother, this is Will and his friend...|Countee.

And they're looking to make a barter,|which means work for food.

I can pretty much fix anything broke.

Windows, uh...

...fences, any kind of machine.

We're trustworthy and responsible.

Come back in the morning.

- We'll see what we can do.|Thank you.

One moment.

WO|Don't feed them, Margaret.

Why don't you take|something to eat before you leave?

Thank you, ma'am,|but, uh, we only take when we work.

I can't let you leave hungry.

Better be quick. I've already seen|Mrs. Culver dive headfirst into the nuts.

Who knows what she'll do|when she sees the sandwiches?

Please, take it as an advance.

Go on.

All right, as an advance. Thank you.

- We'll be working it off in the morning.|- See you then.

Let's go, Countee.|- Ahem.

My husband says let them go hungry.|It's the only way to keep them out of town.

Oh, Louise.

Can't help but think|that those boys are someone's children too.

Hmm.

Will, come on.

Okay, everybody. In your places.

"Member-o-belia."

Eleanor Roosevelt. Amelia Earhart.

Kit, Ruthie, Frances...

...and soon, Florence.

Do you, Florence Stone...

...swear to be true to the treehouse Club|and only the treehouse Club...

...as long as you shall live?

I do.

And if anyone should ask you|to join the 9th Street Club?

I will laugh in their faces.

You're supposed to say, "I will decline."

I will decline...

...and laugh.|- Ha, ha.

Now Ruthie will get the sacred water|off the sacred shelf.

I already did. It's in the sacred bowl.

Good.

Now treehouse members|and potential treehouse members...

...take your right hand,|and place it in the bowl.

We are one.

Now place two fingers|over your heart, like so...

...for the sacred treehouse pledge.

All together:

Gwanga, gwanga, galoolie...

...kariba, kariba, kariv.

- I swear to be true to the...|Betty Lou!

Robert, do something!

Sir...?|Yep.

We're gonna be okay then.|No, save that.

- Frances, look.|That's your bed.

- What does that mean?|My furniture.

"Foreclosure by order of the bank."

That means|the bank's taking our house away.

Ruthie, isn't that your father's bank?

Can you ask your father to give it back?

Just let them go. Betty Lou!|Just let them go.

Oh, what a pity. I had no idea.

Well, he lost his job months ago,|Lorraine.

They've been selling eggs just to get by.

- Will you excuse me?|You just let them go, okay?

Come on, let's go.

But my picture's not up|on the member-o-belia wall yet.

Florence.

Everybody's watching, Lou.

Betty Lou.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Come on.|- Where will they go?

I don't know.

I'm so sorry, Barbara.

There she is. How's my girl?

- Dad, Dad.|- Come here.

- What's the matter?|- Dad, look.

"The Stones lose their house."

And that's why my|favorite stories are fairy tales...

...because no matter how scary it gets...

...everybody always lives happily|ever after.

And often with some very nice outfits.

Thank you, Ruthie. Thank you.|Thank you, Ruthie.

Does, uh... Does anyone know|where Frances Stone is?

She's away.

Staying with family.

- Yeah, in a hobo jungle somewhere.|- Stop it, Roger.

Frances Stone is a good-for-nothing,|deadbeat egg seller...

...and everyone knows it.|She wore dresses made of feed sacks.

Roger. Ruthie, not another word.

Well, this seems like an opportune time|to let you know...

...that as a final class assignment|before summer vacation...

...we're going to help out|at a soup kitchen...

...where they provide food|for the poor and needy.

Uh, Roger.

My dad says that people|eat at soup kitchens...

...are hobos who feed off the government.|That's why we're in a depression.

I understand, Roger.

Therefore,|anyone who doesn't wish to help out...

...can write a 1500-word essay|on the history of volunteerism.

Roger's leading my team|for the soup kitchen.

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