Men of Boys Town Page #6

Synopsis: Mr. and Mrs. Maitland invite Whitey to their home on a trial basis. Whitey tries to visit a friend in reform school and inmate Flip is hiding in car as Whitey leaves. Flip steals money and both boys go to reform school. Father Flanagan exposes the conditions in the school and the boys are released to him. Ted's dog is killed but Ted can walk. The Maitlands work to pay off the debts threatening Boys Town.
Genre: Drama
Director(s): Norman Taurog
Production: MGM
 
IMDB:
6.6
NOT RATED
Year:
1941
106 min
78 Views


his pal yet. Miles Fenely, he says.

Tell him I was over there twice,

but they wouldn't let me in.

Tell Ted that I'm going to drive over there

again tomorrow...

and this time I'll get in all right.

Drive over? You mean hitchhike.

No, drive.

I've got my own car now, a roadster.

With a grumble seat?

Yeah, with a grumble seat.

Quit kidding me, Whitey, that ain't right.

Wait just a minute, will you, Pee Wee?

Come in.

Beg pardon, Master Whitey...

but would that be Master Pee Wee

you're communicating with?

Nobody else.

Pee Wee, wait just a minute.

Parsons wants to say a few words to you.

- Go ahead.

- Thank you, sir.

Master Pee Wee, this is Parsons calling.

How did you fare in the radio contest?

I didn't win it. They're a bunch of gyps.

What? You didn't win the $5,000?

That's very regrettable.

Yes, I'm afraid the Gossamer Soapies are,

as you say, a bunch of gyps.

And, Master... Just one moment, please.

The master asked me to tell you, sir,

to dress this evening.

The family is going out for dinner.

What? I've got to put on

one of those monkey suits again?

- That's what the master said.

- Twice in one week.

Some night they'll find me strangled

to death by one of those stiff collars.

Pee Wee.

Pee Wee, I've got to get myself

wrapped up in a straitjacket.

So tell Ted I'm gonna go over

to that place again tomorrow...

and I'm going to see his pal for sure.

So long, Pee Wee, and don't let

Father Flanagan work too hard.

All right, go ahead, you can

monkey around with it a little more.

Thank you, sir.

- And don't "sir" me, will you, please?

- No, sir, I won't.

Are you still there, Master Pee Wee?

- Well, if it ain't fancy-pants again.

- Yep, again.

You're getting to be part of the scenery,

ain't you? And not very pretty, either.

Look, I want to see Miles Fenely.

You ain't his father,

and you ain't his mother...

and you ain't a relative.

This is the third time I've told you that,

and three strikes is out in any league.

- I want to talk to the Superintendent.

- Write him a letter.

- I did.

- Did you now?

And you mean to say you got no answer?

You're a great kidder, aren't you?

If a certain friend of mine was here now

I'd get in there all right.

And I'm going to talk to him tonight

and tell him about this.

Unless your pal's

the Governor of the State, don't bother.

Fenely's in solitary section for 30 days.

And nobody can see him.

Solitary section? What's that?

It's something that's just as well for you

that you ain't in.

How I'd like to bend a crowbar

over your thick skull!

- That's enough of those kind of cracks.

- Leave me go, will you?

Here, I don't have to take any guff

from you or any other brat.

You been around here enough pestering

me. If you come back here again...

I'll lay this across your nose so hard

I'll split it into toothpicks.

And after this, stay clear of here.

Come on, step on it, buddy.

What are you stopping for? Get going.

- Where do you think you're going?

- Anywhere. I just broke out of the can.

But don't be worried.

They won't miss me till checkup at 6:00.

We got two, three hours.

- What's your name?

- Flip Bryer.

- What were you in the can for?

- I had a gang.

- You had a gang of what?

- Of guys. Good, tough guys.

I was the leader.

- You were the leader?

- Sure, I give the orders.

I had it all set to stick up

a swell pawn shop...

when some rat stooled on me.

Where were your folks

when all this was going on?

All I had was Grandpop.

They didn't give you much of a chance,

I can see.

But stickups at your age aren't so hot.

- They never are.

- So what?

Are you a man or a stool pigeon?

- I'm no stool pigeon.

- All right then, step on it.

Let's get out of here.

Not so fast.

If it was just myself,

I might take the chance.

Who's holding you? Come on, get going.

If they caught you, there'd be a jam.

It'd get in the papers.

What's wrong with that?

Dillinger and Pretty Boy Floyd

got their names in the papers plenty, too.

Plenty.

It wouldn't be right.

They must feed you canary seed,

you're so yellow.

Look, tell you what.

I've got a good friend,

he can help you, see?

You go back to the reformatory

for a week or two...

You or nobody else

is gonna send me back there.

See that? Them marks?

You want me to get 20 lashes again?

Not me, brother.

- Not Flip Bryer.

- They do that to you?

Plenty times. Plenty.

And rub salt in afterwards.

So, if you're scared,

I'll hop out and thumb a ride.

- No.

- But I ain't going back there.

No, you're not.

Is this the dump where you flop?

Hey, Flip...

are you always as tough as this?

Say, with the guys I hang out with,

you're either tough, or you're out of town.

And I don't suppose it hurts any

in the reformatory, either?

You bet it don't. If you turn soft in there,

you're a dead fish.

I see.

You certainly put on a swell act.

If you think it's an act,

put them up and find out.

Okay, so you're tough.

What's that?

Tommy-gun Tomcats. It's great.

It's all about stickups and bank jobs

and shooting it out with the law.

You can learn plenty from a book like this.

Plenty.

Yeah, sure you can.

How to get back to the reformatory,

and then to the penitentiary.

Don't worry about me. I'm bad medicine.

- I started bad and I'm gonna end bad.

- No.

No, you're not.

- There's no such thing as a bad boy.

- Baloney.

Yeah, that's what I said once, too, but...

- somebody taught me different.

- Who?

A great guy. A priest.

- A Holy Joe.

- You can't talk...

Forget it.

You know, I'd like to get you to a school...

where there's no guards or fences

or punishment.

What brand do you smoke, sweetheart?

I'm going over to the house

for a few minutes.

Now, don't poke your nose outside

till I get back.

Go ahead, ankle out.

I gotta catch up on my reading.

I'll be back in a few minutes

with something to eat.

And some milk.

There we are, Flip.

Flip?

Why, you bone-headed numbskull!

Turned copper?

Fine business. I'll square this with you.

- Why you...

- What's going on here?

Nothing, mister.

Okay, Flip. You don't have to do any more.

You're initiated. You're in the club.

I didn't think he'd have nerve enough

to get to the door even.

What do you mean, nerve?

I got in here all it takes for anything.

What do you know?

He's still putting on the act.

- It don't seem like an act to me.

- He was being initiated.

We thought he'd lose his nerve.

He sure surprised me.

- Imagine what he would have done to me?

- Yeah.

I've sure got to hand it to you.

You've got what it takes, Flip.

Hope he didn't scare you too much.

- What right you got, queering my racket?

- I'm only trying to keep you out of jail.

Thanks for nothing.

After this, keep your own nose clean.

- Understand?

- Sure, I understand.

You're going to be up to your neck

in trouble unless I get you out of here.

And I'm going to do

something about that tonight.

No tricks.

Sorry we bothered you. So long, mister.

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James Kevin McGuinness

James Kevin McGuinness (December 20, 1893 – December 4, 1950) was an American screenwriter and film producer. He wrote for 36 films between 1927 and 1950. He wrote for The New Yorker magazine. He was born in Ireland and immigrated to New York in 1904. He arrived in Los Angeles in the 1920s at the dawn of the "talkies" era and thereafter worked in the film industry as a writer and later a producer. He died in New York in 1950 from a heart attack. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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