Marty Page #17

CLARA:

I really should get home...

She twists in her seat and looks toward the back of the

luncheonette.

MARTY:

It's only a quarter of twelve. The

clock's right over there.

CLARA:

I really should get home, I told my

father... Well, I suppose a little

while longer. I wonder if there's

any place around here I could put

some makeup on...

Marty considers this problem for a second, then leans out of

the booth and calls out.

MARTY:

Hey, Mac!

CAMERA ANGLES to include the PROPRIETOR of the luncheonette.

He is sitting in one of the booths ahead reading the Sunday

Mirror. He looks up toward Marty.

MARTY:

You gotta Ladies' Room around here?

PROPRIETOR:

Inna back.

MARTY:

(to Clara)

Inna back.

Clara smiles at this innocent gaucherie, then edges out of

the booth, taking her purse with her.

187TH STREET. NIGHT.

HIGH ANGLE SHOT of Angie meandering down the street on which

the neighborhood bar is located. It is near midnight, and

the street is empty except for Angie and the CLACKING of his

leather heels on the pavement. He comes to the bar, opens

the door, enters...

THE BAR. NIGHT.

The SOUNDS of Saturday night revelry are loud, coming mostly

from the Irish contingent of the neighborhood. They are

grouped along practically the whole bar. Three or four WOMEN

and a number of shirtsleeved MEN, mostly in their late

forties, early fifties. We know they're Irish, because one

of the younger men is chanting an auld country ballad.

CAMERA ANGLES disclose the entrance to the bar in the

background, showing Angie coming in, looking here and there.

He starts toward the bar.

NEAR BAR.

TWO IRISH WOMEN, middle-aged, squat heavily on bar stools

over their schooners of beer, gassing away at each other.

FIRST IRISH WOMAN

...so she told me that the doctor

told her that if she had any more

babies, she would do so at the risk

of her life...

Angie shuffles in, pausing near the bar and standing behind

the two Irish women.

SECOND IRISH WOMAN

She was always a bit thin in the

hips...

FIRST IRISH WOMAN

Well, at the time she told me this,

she already had six. Every time I

saw the woman, she was either...

ANGIE:

Hey, Lou!

FIRST IRISH WOMAN

...going to the hospital or coming

from it. She was hatching them out

like eggs.

SECOND IRISH WOMAN

And that husband of hers is a skinny

bit of a fellow, isn't he?

FIRST IRISH WOMAN

Well, I bumped into her on the street,

and she was as big as a barrel.

ANGIE:

(loudly)

Hey, Lou!

CAMERA ANGLES to include Lou, the Bartender.

BARTENDER:

(looking up from

opening a batch of

beer bottles)

What?

FIRST IRISH WOMAN

...so I said to her, "Mary...

ANGIE:

(calling to the

Bartender)

Marty been in here the last coupla

hours or so?

FIRST IRISH WOMAN

"...Mary, for heaven's sakes, didn't

you tell me that another one'll kill

you?"

BARTENDER:

I ain't seen Marty all night...

SECOND IRISH WOMAN

And her husband is a little bit of a

man, isn't he?

ANGIE:

(calling to the

Bartender, but even

more to himself)

Where is everybody? I been walking

around, I can't find anybody...

FIRST IRISH WOMAN

Well, last week Tuesday, she gave

birth to the baby in Saint Elizabeth's

hospital... a big healthy boy of

nine pounds...

SECOND IRISH WOMAN

Oh, that's nice. So the doctor was

wrong, wasn't he?

FIRST IRISH WOMAN

Oh, no! She died right in the

hospital...

SECOND IRISH WOMAN

Oh, that's a sad story. And her

husband is that little fellow, works

in Peter Reeves.

FIRST IRISH WOMAN

That's the one.

SECOND IRISH WOMAN

Oh, that's a sad story.

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